


Dream Below

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Inception, Awesome Natasha Romanov, BAMF Natasha Romanov, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Dream Sex, F/F, F/M, M/M, Mentions of Inception cast, Multi, Natasha has a harem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-10 22:21:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 42,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4409969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor of Odin Corp. hires Steve Rogers' elite dream sharing team to perform inception on his brother, Loki, and a shade of their ex-resident thief Bucky (who was killed when the team's last job went horribly wrong) tries his best to sabotage it.</p><p>Or: Steve extracts, Tony builds, Clint runs point, Natasha's a master of impersonation, Bruce concocts, Thor's a tourist, and things happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Through The Secrets That I Have Seen

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of [this AU gifset on Tumblr](http://futurerustfuture-dust.tumblr.com/post/98503702162/i-swear-to-god-steve-i-will-drop-the-pasiv-out). Come on, a mashup of Inception and the MCU. *drools* Did you really think I could stay away from this? No, I didn't think so either. :D
> 
> Title and chapter titles from Linkin Park's "Castle of Glass."

**Act One – Setting the Stage**

Thor Odinson approached Steve Rogers at the table in the back of the restaurant. He was built like a classic Norse god: blonde hair, blue eyes, square jaw, built arms and chest, tall, and with presence enough to dominate others. The business suit he wore was tailored, or close to it, and only served to enhance the sense of power that Thor possessed. He had a ready smile, though, and clasped Steve's hand in a firm grip. Steve at six feet tall was three inches shorter than Thor, but he was fairly strongly built as well. His waist and legs weren't as massive as Thor's, but Steve was more of a runner and swimmer. In his line of work, it was a necessity.

"I'm pleased you're taking me up on my offer," Thor said, his voice as strong as the rest of him. It wasn't too loud for the area, and didn't carry a pompous undertone the way some conglomerate CEO's did. It seemed more like his natural exuberance not being able to be contained within his frame, not a calculated ploy to impress or intimidate.

Steve smiled easily, aware of his off the rack suit jacket and trousers. "I'm here to _consider_ the offer," he corrected. It was an easy mistake to make, one he had corrected often enough in the last few months.

Few months? He knew Clint or Natasha would berate him and say it was over a year. But he couldn't think of that now.

"Mr. Rogers," Thor said, leaning forward somewhat earnestly. "I have come to you for aid. There are rumors. Whispers that you can make the impossible happen, that it can be like magic."

A chill ran down Steve's spine. Isn't that what Cobb and his crew had promised the community just two or three years ago? Magic unlike any other. And then most of them dropped right out of sight, never to be seen again.

"What's the job?" Steve asked. He was also blonde and blue eyed, but he had this earnest kind of face that made him appear trustworthy. Natasha once said that it made him look like he should be a superhero, that he was _perfect_ for the job, and could easily represent truth, justice and the American way. If he wasn't so busy breaking the law, that was.

Thor didn't seem to be put off by his demeanor, however. "It's your particular expertise with the mind that I'm interested in," he said, lips twisting in a sardonic smile. "If you get my meaning."

Steve had assumed this was a dream share referral, so he merely nodded. "You seem to have an understanding about the field."

"I've a number of associates who have partaken of that particular modality." He smiled at Steve, appearing friendly enough. "I'm hoping you could help me."

"With?" Steve prompted. His voice was a bit harsh, and it wiped the smile right off of Thor's face.

"My brother," Thor sighed, not able to get around this any longer. "He is angry, so very angry. Our father had kept many secrets in his time, some relating to the family business, and some apparently relating to us. Loki went through his papers after he died, and he discovered that he was adopted. It seems to have upended everything he knew about himself."

Frowning, Steve looked at Thor. "What is he doing?"

Thor sighed again. "Our father brokered some kind of deal with other businesses, so he didn't have to take them over. The actual clauses and contracts are quite complicated, I won't bore you with them. But Loki started breaking contracts. It was particularly bad with Jotunheim. That was nothing short of a hostile takeover, with the bulk of the employees summarily turned out as soon as the ink on the contracts dried. It was _devastating,_ and not what our father would have wanted."

"Some would say he's simply doing business. That there's nothing wrong with him."

"No. This is not my brother. We played together, fought others together, and he normally confides in me. No longer. His half of the company is constantly doing battle with mine. He seeks to undermine my authority, belittle and trick me at any turn." Thor frowned deeply. "This isn't him. Normally Loki can calm down _my_ temper, and I used to be the family hothead. Since father's death two years ago, I haven't touched a drop of alcohol and I haven't been so angry."

"But he is," Steve said quietly. "If this is how he's processing his grief, though, what he needs is a therapist. And by no stretch of the imagination am I a therapist."

"Therapists are no use anyway. He despises them."

Thor didn't elaborate even with an arched brow. "Listen, Thor, take it from me, dreams are not the way to go if he's still grieving."

"I want him to let go of the grief and anger," Thor said, leaning forward slightly and looking at Steve intently. "I want him to live, to be the man my father thought he could be. He's a shadow of himself, a lost little boy, and it pains me to watch him flounder this way. He won't take my help, he won't even accept that I might truly call him brother, that I'm not mocking him."

"Family counseling," Steve offered.

Shaking his head, Thor leaned back in his chair. "I need you to change his mind. I need you to make him let go."

Steve sat very still. "You can't change people. That isn't what this is for."

"I heard you could."

"You heard wrong," Steve replied coldly. "I think we're done here."

Thor grew desperate, reaching out to grab Steve's arm. "I'll pay you whatever you ask, give you whatever you want. Just name your price, and I'll get it for you, no questions asked. Do you want money? The charges against you dropped? Whatever you want, Mr. Rogers, I promise you, I'll make it happen, no matter what it takes. _Just fix my brother."_

Feeling like an utter hypocrite, Steve shook off his grasp. "Maybe you should accept him for who he is, Mr. Odinson."

"This isn't him. You don't know him, you don't know what he was like before. _Please,"_ Thor asked, _begged_ really. "I want my family together again. Mr. Rogers, I don't know where else to turn. I would do anything, give anything, to have my family back together again. My mother still mourns my father, and to lose her son as well... Our family is broken. Please. I need your help to fix it, whatever you can do..."

Steve frowned deeply at Thor. "I think you're expecting more of this than what is possible."

"There's talk," Thor said quietly. "Not just getting information, but changing minds and influencing them, of helping people be better than they were before. I don't want him to be different. I know it sounds that way, but I just want him to stop being so angry, so full of grief."

At Steve's sigh, Thor leaned forward again. "I know grief changes us. I know it forces us to be different people, to value different things. But he's so full of rage that he's harming others. I can't allow that to continue. I can't let him destroy everything our father worked to build. I can't let him go on destroying everything because he doesn't know how to let go."

Thor's words made Steve feel more and more uncomfortable, and he wanted him to _shut up,_ to _stop,_ but he wouldn't do that. Steve knew the determined businessman type. So he said the words that would shut his mouth, no matter the consequences.

"Let me see what I can do."

***

Clint was jerked out of a sound sleep by the sound of his phone; the ringtone was the one that meant dream share business, and he fumbled to slide the lock off. "Yeah."

"You shouldn't agree to things before you know what they are."

At the familiar sound of Steve's voice, he shot upright in the bed and was instantly awake. He looked over to his companion, who was bundled under the covers and hopefully still asleep. "It's been close to a year," Clint said, glad that he achieved a neutral tone.

"Has it? I haven't kept track," Steve replied.

"I have," Clint muttered.

Ignoring the remark, Steve continued. "I might have a job lined up for us, but it'll be complicated. We'll need the best for it. So you on point, maybe Nat on forging... Could you find her? She's not answering my calls."

"Don't you have her current number?" Clint asked icily. Steve in fact did not, and Clint was very aware of that fact.

Steve at least sounded awkward when he sighed and admitted "Probably not."

"And I wonder why that is?"

"Clint, please. I was in no shape to go under."

"At least now you admit it."

"Look, I—"

"We all lost someone. You don't have the market on grief cornered."

Steve remained silent for a long time. "I guess I deserved that," he said finally.

"Yes, you did," Clint replied.

"Can you find her? And see if she knows a chemist? A good one, capable of doing multiple layers with sedation. I tried getting a hold of Yusuf, but he flat out refused to take this one on. He said the last time he went into the field, it cured him of curiosity."

"Sounds like Yusuf," Clint said, scrubbing his jaw tiredly with the heel of his hand. "I make no promises," he said quietly. "If she says no and tells you to fuck off, I won't help you either."

"What? You come as a pair now?" Steve asked, sounding incredulous and jealous at once.

Once upon a time, Clint would have explained the situation. Right now, he wanted to flip Steve off and say _fuck you_ over the way everything had fallen apart. "Let's just say the history with you soured. You don't have the pull you once did."

Blowing out a breath, Steve began "Look, if I say I'm sorry—"

"Just text me a possible meet up point. I'll text you back if we're interested enough to show up."

"You don't even know what the job is yet."

"It's complicated, Yusuf took a pass and it's you that we'd be working with. That tells us plenty enough to start with," Clint shot back. "Just text me. I'll text you."

He hung up on Steve and dropped his phone back on the nightstand. The lump beneath the blankets stirred, and a delicate hand snaked out to grasp him around the waist. "Oh. Hey. Did I wake you? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

A shock of red hair appeared as Natasha Romanoff propped herself up on her opposite elbow and looked up at him. "It's okay. Who were you talking to? Someone in the business, if you mentioned Yusuf not going near the job that was offered."

"I didn't even let it be offered."

"Why? Who was calling?"

"Steve."

Natasha was so surprised that her jaw dropped and she nearly fell back onto the bed. She then pushed herself back up into a sitting position, the blanket and sheet falling off of her. It exposed the graceful curve of her spine, the flawless skin, her pert breasts, flat stomach and neatly trimmed curling red hair between her thighs. Her bright red hair fell in messy waves to her shoulders, and her green eyes took in Clint's stiff posture. Her own body language was expectant. The two of them had worked together for far longer than they had been sleeping together, and Clint knew how clever she was in reading people, projecting what she wanted them to see, and manipulating them. With him, however, Natasha was always open and easy to read. Even before they had gotten together in the aftermath of The Disaster, they had always trusted each other.

"What does he want?" she asked, a slight tremor to her voice.

Clint would have felt insulted or jealous if he was a lesser man. As it was, he simply pulled her into his arms and let her rest against him. He was solidly built, taller than she was, with impressive arm and chest muscles. His thighs weren't too bad, either, if Clint had to voice an opinion. He worked out and ran regularly, if only because jobs didn't always go smoothly.

"I didn't let him tell me about the job, remember? He wanted me to find you, and for you to find someone as skilled as Yusuf, but not Yusuf."

"It's been a year, Clint."

"I know," he said softly, rubbing her back gently when a chill rolled through her.

"That—" Her voice broke off abruptly.

"The shade," he said for her. "It's okay. He shot me, too."

"Tortured you," she corrected, that core of steel obvious again. "Ripped into us, laughed as he did it..." She pushed away from him, shaking her head. "Hell, no. Not again. I will never let that happen to you again, Clint."

"Natasha," he said patiently, pulling her back into bed. "You don't have to feel bad about it. I walked into those jobs knowing full well what was going to happen to me. I'm the point man, remember? It's my job to know these things, to be prepared. I kept the shade occupied, I kept the projections off your back and off of Steve..."

She ran her hand over his, then linked their fingers tightly. After a moment where she pressed her lips together, Natasha looked up at him. "What do you want to do?"

"I'd love to fuck you again," he replied flippantly, enjoying the flash of irritation in her eyes. "After all, if you want to take the job, there might be some seduction involved. I want to stake my claim before you con some sucker into falling in love with you."

Rolling her eyes, she swatted his shoulder. "Stupid."

"I know, I know, part of the job description. And we're not exclusive, anyway," Clint said, grinning at her. He let his hand slide up the curve of her ribs until he could cup the back of her neck. "But you come back to me, and I come back to you. That's the important part."

Kissing him rather than answering in words, Natasha leaned over him and rubbed her bare breasts against his chest. He groaned, and pushed her onto her back on top of the covers. "You want to take it," she said when the kiss broke.

He pulled her hands over her head and pinned them down with one hand. The other cupped a breast, his thumb abrading her nipple gently. "You're saying you don't?"

Tilting into his touch, Natasha's lips curled into a seductive smile. "I didn't say that."

"So say what you want, Nat."

"Maybe I do want you to fuck me."

"Considering I just did that a couple hours ago..."

"I'm overdue for my fix," she purred in reply, hooking one of her legs around his waist. She let out a squeak when he pinched her nipple a little harder than she liked. "Clint!"

"You didn't answer me."

"Maybe I'll be a bad girl and not answer."

"Then you need to be punished." Clint grinned and pressed harder on her wrists. "But then, that's answer enough for me, isn't it?"

Natasha's breath caught, and she looked up at him. For a moment, her expression was vulnerable and pained. But then he bent down to kiss her, his tongue sliding into her mouth, and her body relaxed completely beneath him. "Clint..." she moaned into his mouth.

"We're in this together, no matter what happens," he returned, his free hand caressing her. "We'll watch each other's backs, and whatever the shade does, we'll be ready."

It was exactly what she needed to hear. Natasha kissed him with greater fervor, tongue sneaking out to touch his lips and teeth. He palmed her breast, then let his fingers trail down to between her legs, teasing her a little before sliding into her sheath. Once his fingertips were wet, he stroked her clit, just enough to get her gasping but not enough to have her bucking against him with need. This time, Clint wanted it slow and steady. Nothing too hard or fast, nothing to remind Natasha of the past if he could help it. Though this would remind her, too. Everything would, if he was honest with himself, but they were together now. Sort of. It was complicated.

Clint moved slowly and deliberately, teasing her with his fingers as he kissed her. He laughed when she whined and shifted her hips up toward his hand or let her restless legs move apart wider, fairly unsubtle hints that she wanted him to speed things up. "C'mon, c'mon," she urged, letting a whine come into her voice. "Clint..."

"Sh, Nat," he murmured. "I've got you."

He slid his fingers into her and thumbed her clit now. She clenched down hard around them, moaning and arching her back. Unable to resist, Clint ducked his head down and took one pert breast into his mouth, laving the nipple with his tongue. Natasha's throaty moans filled his ears, and he wanted _so much_ to sink inside her wet heat and fuck her into oblivion. Instead, he sucked and licked the nipple to a peak, then let it go to give the same attention to its twin. All the while, he kept a steady rhythm pumping into her and rubbing her clit. It was the kind of delicious sensation she loved, yet was just under the threshold to make her come. He waited until her gasping "Please, Clint, please, I need you inside me" to enter her. It always felt exquisite, the slick, soft slide of skin against skin, how wet and ready she was for him. Just for good measure, Clint licked his fingers a little, enough to get the taste of her on his tongue, then he pressed them against her lips. Natasha opened them for him readily, sucking his fingers with the same attention she would give his cock if he gave her the opportunity.

Natasha locked her legs around his waist to keep him from drawing all the way out of her, grinning around his fingers when he tsk'ed her.

"Maybe I want to tease you," he complained. "I wanna make you come."

She moved her head to the side, and Clint got the hint to remove his fingers from her mouth. Her gaze was hot as hell, her lips curling into a sensual smile. It was all he could do not to come from that alone. "Maybe I just want you in me, all the way in."

"Shit, keep talking that way, and I just might do that."

Clint laughed along with her, and she practically purred as she told him how she wanted to suck on his cock and lick a stripe up his skin, how she wanted to take him in hand and stroke him until he was even harder than before, how she wanted to pin him down and ride him, how she wanted to tie his wrists and ankles down to tease him until he came from that alone.

"Jesus, you know how to turn me on," he growled, beginning to move faster. Her throaty laughter egged him on, and he kept going until he came. He slowed down, shooting her a questioning look. "Did you...?"

"Yeah. A little while ago."

"Oh. Good. 'Cause I don't think I've got another one in me today."

"I could get a strap on and take care of _you,"_ she taunted, laughing and stretching out when he moved his hand from her wrists. "We'll see how quick that gets you going again."

Pulling out, he stretched out beside her, an arm covering her stomach. The sheets needed a good washing anyway.

Nipping her shoulder playfully, Clint propped himself up on an elbow to look at her. "You know who you're going to ask, don't you?"

"Good as Yusuf, but isn't Yusuf?" Natasha replied, stretching again just so Clint could get an eyeful of her breasts as they moved. "There aren't too many people on that list." She shrugged. "I'm sure we'll find someone. We'll need a good architect, too. You'll be point, of course."

"You're going to behave, aren't you?" Clint asked.

She grinned at him, a spark of playfulness in her eye. "Where's the fun in that?"

"Tasha..."

"Cli-int," she sing-songed back at him.

"Who are you gonna call?" he asked, curious. There really weren't many good chemists out there now that some countries were cracking down on dream share.

"Ghostbusters," Natasha replied with an unrepentant grin.

Rolling his eyes, Clint dropped his bulk down on top of her lithe frame. "Seriously."

"I was thinking Banner."

"Banner? Really? Doesn't he have the rage issues?"

"We want his mind, not his personality."

"It'll matter if he drops down with us."

"Most chemists don't."

"He's not most chemists."

Natasha conceded the point. "We'll see how it plays out. With Cobb and his usual team out of the mix, it might be picking and choosing."

"They've been out for a while. Years, I think."

"Three," Natasha replied immediately. "Like you don't know that."

"It's not like I _liked_ him."

"Self-absorbed asshole, I think you called him."

"Yeah, well, it fits."

"So it does," Natasha agreed. "When do you want me to call? Now?"

"You call Banner, I'll drum up an architect?" he offered.

She grinned and leaned over to give him a filthy kiss. "Deal."

***

Clint walked into the bar, jeans slung low on his hips, his T shirt ratty and the striped shirt over it unbuttoned. He hated the heat in Morocco, but there wasn't much else he could do but grin and bear it behind massive sunglasses. There weren't many public places to meet in the tiny town; couldn't the go between ask to meet in an actual city? Nodding at the bartender, he ordered a cold beer and hoped the ice wasn't made from local well water. It would be a shame to die of dysentery or some shit like that.

The only other white man in the bar got up and ambled toward him. he wore hipster glasses tinted purple and the same flowy clothing that the locals wore. The lighter neutral shades looked striking on their darker shades of skin. It made this man look sallow.

"You must be Barton," he said without preamble, plopping into a seat beside him. "I hear you need an architect."

"Depends. How good are you at skyscrapers?"

He laughed, but it was a sound tinged by bitterness. "Wanna go so high you touch the clouds, is that it? Getting off on dangerous things?"

They both fell silent as the waiter returned with Clint's beer. He drank deeply, then contemplated the dark haired man in front of him. The goatee was trimmed neatly, the hair was carefully trimmed and mussed. There were circles under his eyes, as if he hadn't slept well in a long time, as if haunted by something.

"Maybe there are still some things worth dreaming about," Clint murmured.

The man remained silent for a while, then lifted his glass. "Some things are, yes. Most things, no. Most things are very no, as a matter of fact."

"Even with a big enough price tag?"

"Some things? You couldn't pay me enough to do."

"You build, Mr...?" Clint asked, tone leading him to introduce himself.

"Tony Stark," he replied, holding his hand out for a shake. "I heard from One Eyed Nick you were angling for a builder. So here I am."

"Why should I pick you?"

"I'm the only one here."

"Says you."

"The other guys here are here for the beer. They sure as hell aren't here for your stunning personality. Or mine." Tony smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes.

"Tell me why I should get you on board with this rather than someone else."

"If One Eyed Nick sent you in my direction, you need someone good, flexible, possibly multiple layers, able to reconstruct on the fly if I'm under." Tony was all business, shooting the words out as utter fact. "I'm a genius, and I'm a bitch to work with, but I'm good. You want to play with someone that can puff up your ego, there are a few good architects I can direct you to. I've been told I don't play well with others. Give me a good enough reason to, I might give it a try."

"Your cut would be six figures."

Tony paused with his drink about two inches from his mouth. His lips twisted, considering, and then he nodded. "And the rest of the team?"

"I'm point. Natasha Romanoff is the forger. Steve Rogers the extractor." No need to mention that Clint didn't know the details of the job yet.

"What's the job?"

Okay, he would have to mention it after all. "We're just getting a team together. Details and work comes after that."

"Is it that bad?"

"Could be."

If anything, the uncertainty of the job seemed to appeal to Tony. "Huh. Well. I wasn't doing very much anyway, and my girlfriend constantly tells me I need to get out more."

"Where is she?"

"Paris right now with a friend of hers. One of the architects I'd send you to, if I wasn't taking the job. But Ariadne likes knowing what bullshit she's heading into."

"Not a fan of uncertainty?" Clint asked in surprise.

"She's worked with Cobb before his retirement," Tony explained. "The man was nothing _but_ bullshit. It's why she started meeting others in the field. Sort of like a club. Or a support group, truth be told."

Clint nodded, a smile on his lips. "We're a hard bunch."

"Yeah, well, you don't stay in it if you plan to live forever. So when do we start?"

***  
***


	2. Wash The Poison From Off My Skin

Because it was neutral territory and highly convenient, everyone met up in Paris. The airport was large enough and anonymous enough for all of them to arrive from various places in the world; none of them were on Interpol's watch list anyway. Odin Corp's European headquarters was located in Paris, so their infiltration would work best at that location. Tony sometimes lived there because his girlfriend Pepper Potts did. Her friend Maria Hill was also a friend of Natasha's; they had met on a job years ago, and Natasha had kept up the relationship, even if it was sporadic. Maria was the second in command to a security firm that was often nicknamed The Fortress. There was quite a bit of irony in having their meeting about illegal activity in The Fortress, and Maria thought it was downright hilarious. If her colleagues and boss didn't do a thorough security check of everyone they allowed to use the meeting space, they deserved what they got as far as she was concerned. "Just so you know," she had warned them, "any funny stuff, and I will have trained agents in there inside of one minute with guns at your heads."

Natasha had merely smiled at her, as if a formal challenge had been issued. "If they can actually do that, then they're worth keeping."

Maria had snorted. "I know you, Natasha. Come talk to me if you get tired of these losers and ever want to go legit."

"Offer me a big enough payout, and we'll see."

She had laughed, because of course legitimate businesses couldn't give the same kind of payout that dream share could. Maria also knew that it paid to keep a few friends on the other side of the law in her line of work; the day might come when she needed the contacts for a job or an out if The Fortress collapsed on her.

It was odd for Clint to know he was meeting with Steve, that Bucky wasn't going to be there, that Natasha would be going home with him instead of the other two men. He hadn't been jealous of them, not exactly; they had been too perfectly in tune that a fourth would have obviously messed things up, and he hadn't wanted Bucky or Steve. He simply had wanted what they had, that sense that someone out there completely understood him, inside and out, that he never had to be anything that he wasn't. He had that with Natasha now, and it was amazing, but at what cost?

Steve didn't look awful on the outside. Clint wasn't sure if he had been hoping that Steve would have shown some visible sign of all their suffering or not.

He was smiling at them all, grinning widely as if this was a pleasant reunion and not the first time they had all willingly been in the same room together, let alone the same city. "This is wonderful," he began, teeth flashing like a toothpaste commercial. He even carried the familiar silver briefcase as if he was an ordinary businessman.

Clint wanted to knock his teeth in.

Introductions were made all around; Tony had a few real world contracts under his belt, and Steve was appropriately impressed by that, and Bruce had come in by way of Calcutta, where he had been doing research on beneficial aspects of somnacin and various other soporifics for a private pharmaceutical company. "I'm on sabbatical right now. So your timing is actually excellent," he said as he shook Steve's hand. "But me in a big city really isn't a good idea," he said, a self deprecating grimace on his face.

"Oh? Why is that?" Steve asked, not a trace of obfuscation in his expression.

"Would that be the exquisite rage issues I've been hearing about?" Tony piped up, reaching over from his seat to poke Bruce in the side. Everyone glared at him, but he didn't quite subside. Perhaps they should have let Pepper tag along with him, after all. She had said that few people could handle Tony as well as she could, and Clint was starting to see her point. Still, he had thought the team could replace one svelte strawberry blonde in designer dress suits and stiletto Louboutins. Apparently not.

Steve had merely sighed and continued shaking Bruce's hand. "I've heard about your research specialties, and that's the expertise I'm interested in. Anything else... As long as it doesn't disrupt the team, I'm sure we'll be able to get along fine."

Bruce, a touch of gray at his temples and bright eyes hidden behind wire rim glasses, had let out a slow breath. He wasn't as tall as Steve, but was taller than Tony and not built as bulkily. He had a tendency to slouch, and wore faded suits as if he was a university professor. It was likely a holdover from his old academia days; he had taught psychology, with a focus on trauma work, and also had studied in biochemistry labs. Academia, however, paid far worse than private sector, which was miles behind dream share.

"We're waiting on one more," Steve announced, looking over the room.

Clint almost expected to bristle when Steve looked at Natasha, but there was nothing more than regret and a vague longing in his eyes when he looked at her. Natasha, for her part, didn't even bother to make eye contact.

"Who are we waiting for?" Clint asked, brows furrowed as he watched Steve confidently walk over to the main desk and place the PASIV carefully onto it.

"Our employer, Thor Odinson," Steve replied, as if that wasn't a loaded grenade tossed into their midst, pin pulled.

There were variations of "What?" and "Are you out of your mind?" and "Why the fuck would he need us?" from the others, but Clint rose to his feet in his silence. Natasha had shot to her feet as well, glaring at Steve as if he had grown another head.

"We have a complicated job ahead of us," Steve said smoothly, hands raised slightly as if to placate them. "I think it's best to wait until we're all in the room together, and we can discuss the job all at once instead of piecemeal."

"Did you even clear out your own head?" Natasha hissed.

Steve shot her a look and said nothing; at once that told her and Clint everything they needed to know about the situation, and he cursed colorfully in Russian. Natasha echoed his sentiment, her jaw tight as she looked at Steve.

There was nothing quite so bitter as love turned sour, caring twisted into something foul.

"You want inception," Bruce said suddenly, staring at him. "That's why you need me. You'd have to go in three or four layers deep in order to do something like that..."

"Inception is a pipe dream. A myth," Clint insisted.

"It's been done," Bruce murmured. "Rare, and the mind has to cooperate, usually if it's a small or organic change. We've done it in our trauma work, suppressed or erased the pain of it, but this is incredibly dangerous to the psyche. You can do so much damage if you're not careful, and the dreams have to incredibly clean and clear." He shook his head. "Even in the cases where we did that back at the university, I can't say that it was a good thing that we did."

Steve tried to soothe the group of them, urging them to stay calm. Natasha was coldly telling him that he had no right to tell her to calm down, given his history. There seemed to be only one way to shut everyone up, so Clint took it.

Sweeping the silver briefcase off of the desk, Clint swiftly moved to the window. "I swear to god, Steve, I will drop the PASIV out of this fucking window if you don't tell me _right now_ why you thought taking this goddamn job was a good idea, what with Bucky running around in our heads trying to shoot us out of our dreams."

"Can't you feel it, Clint? You're antsy. We're all antsy. We've been the best dream share team there is out there since Cobb's disbanded, and we haven't gone under in over a year."

"Jesus Christ, you guys haven't gone under in a year?" Tony cried.

"We have," Clint said, pointing at his chest and then Natasha. "He hasn't."

"This is going to be a disaster. I should have stayed in Calcutta," Bruce sighed.

"Oh, come on, now. You didn't come here because I bat my eyelashes at you," Natasha told Bruce, irritated.

"The more important question is," Tony said, cutting off Bruce's reply, "is who the hell is Bucky? And why would he shoot us out of our dreams?"

Steve grit his teeth and didn't answer.

"What the hell did I sign up for?" Tony asked, frowning. "Other than a six figure payout, because that is always good promise. If it's real."

The office doors had opened as Tony spoke, and the golden goose of the job walked in.

"Oh yes, it is very real," Thor Odinson promised gravely. "And if things go better than I hope, it could even be a seven figure payout."

That got everyone very quiet and very alert.

Now Thor grinned. "Well, then. Now that I have everyone's attention, let's begin."

***

Sitting in a conference room, chairs arranged in a semicircle in front of a whiteboard, Steve tried to rally their enthusiasm. But once the thrill of a potential million dollar payout _each_ wore off, the reality of it sank in.

Change the nature of a man the business world was starting to call amoral and sociopathic; for the business world, that was saying something.

"This is impossible," Clint said. "The stories that are out there are just that. Stories."

"We did it in research based facilities," Bruce said, shaking his head. "But their minds were fragile to start with, unstable. The trauma they experienced was worth the risk. Severe torture, trauma you don't even want to imagine... We had to go in there, box it all up, see that the children could have something resembling a normal life... This isn't that. This isn't any kind of humane act that you propose to do."

"No offense, Dr. Banner," Steve said in quiet tones, "but you aren't working on humane acts right now. You moved out of academic work into the private sector. And the people your company tests its products on aren't exactly willing participants."

He went frighteningly pale, hands curling into fists in his lap. "Mr. Rogers..."

"If we're done posturing," Natasha cut in, voice icy and disapproving in Steve's direction. "I think we need to be honest here. _You_ took the job. Today wasn't to ask if we were on board, you were hoping to hook us into a job you already accepted."

Steve's silence spoke volumes.

"Son of a bitch," Tony said, leaning back in his chair. "Wow. That is a total dick move."

"Seven figures," Steve said into the ensuing silence.

"He upped it today because he heard us arguing," Clint snapped. "Don't pretend that it was your play all along."

"Come on! We're the best, aren't we? We can do this. I know we can. We may not agree on this, we may not even like each other. But each of us is the best and brightest in the field right now. We're more than up for this challenge, more than ready to work on this. They say that inception is impossible. Or damn near to it. I say we can do it. I say we can make it work, do the impossible, then go our separate ways that much richer."

"Maybe they all say it can't be done because it shouldn't be done," Bruce said softly. "We have no right to break someone's mind and play around with it just because we can."

"How much more harm would he do if we didn't?" Steve asked in a tone that was just as soft, just as reverent. "If we go into this, yes, the money is going to be a draw. I don't think we should ignore that aspect of it. But if we go and fix this man's mind, get rid of the hatred and grief and despair, wouldn't we be doing him a favor? Wouldn't it be like years of therapy?"

"What right do we have to do this?" Tony asked, frowning.

"If he keeps going, he destroys every business he sets his sights on. Hundreds of thousands of people out of jobs, just because he's pissed off at his dead father. Just because he can't stop grieving and he can't let go."

Natasha leaned in close to Clint's ear to whisper "Pot. Kettle."

He crossed his arms over his chest and smiled. The move seemed to throw Steve for a moment, and he finally took a deep breath. "Please," he said finally. "There are a thousand reasons I could come up with why we should do this, from humanitarian to because we can to the challenge of it. I resisted taking this job at first, I really did. But Thor got to me. He's hurting, he's in pain." He turned to look at Clint and Natasha. "I can never say I'm sorry enough, I know this. But the least I can give you is this: a job to put on your resume, leave you flush with cash and maybe the opportunity to add to your reputation."

Clint stared at Steve for a long moment. "I think you actually mean that."

"I do."

Exchanging a wordless glance with Natasha, Clint turned back to Steve. "That helps. It's not enough, but it's a start. We're in."

***

There was a certain thrill in the start of a job. The preparation was intense, delving into the subject of the job with such a fervor Clint never felt for legitimate work. He loved being able to go into financial records, social media and hacking into computers for private files. The data didn't lie, and he could spread it all around him and rearrange it into patterns that made sense. It normally was a rather conceited thought, that he could reduce a person to nothing but data points and patterns, but this was part of what he was good at. The other was playing point once he was under in the dream below. His vision sharpened, and he could see threats before they arrived, could predict where a mind would put its security. It was an underappreciated skill as far as he was concerned, but everything ran smoothly when he did his preparation right.

Natasha went undercover to see how Loki behaved, who the important people were in his life and get a better sense of who she would forge once they dropped down into the dream. She had been brought in as a legal assistant; one benefit of having Thor be their employer was that he could push through her paperwork by bullying HR into it. She would have had a fairly sweet setup with the corporation if she was actually a legal assistant.

Loki was certainly paranoid. The first time she arrived in a stylish white blouse and high waisted black pencil skirt with high heels, courtesy of a shopping spree with Pepper, he had glared at her with thinned lips. "You're new."

"Yes, sir," she said with a brisk nod. "Sarah is out on maternity leave right now, so I was hired on to cover her cases." She handed him the clipboard with the paperwork in question. "I need you to review these files regarding the acquisition off—"

"Who's Sarah?" he asked sharply.

Blinking in surprise, Natasha had the same innocent expression on her face. "Sarah Miller in legal. She's on maternity leave. She took the full twelve weeks so I was hired to cover that time."

He frowned, obviously trying to place Sarah Miller. In front of her, rather than taking the clipboard from her, he went on the company website to look her up. But Sarah Miller really did just have a baby and take twelve weeks of leave; Natasha liked making her cover stories as plausible as possible, just in case she had paranoid subjects like this.

This meant odds were good that he would be militarized, even if he had no formal training.

Snatching the clipboard from her, Loki scrawled his signature in all the flagged spots and handed it back to her without even checking what he was signing. "I know those files inside and out," he said at her blink of surprise. "Legal was simply double checking the verbiage."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know that," Natasha said, taking the clipboard back.

"Who are you?" he snapped, irritated with her. She had been aware that he had very little patience, but this was a little ridiculous.

"Natalie Rushman."

"So how did you get to temping in my legal department?" he asked, practically crackling with tension as he looked her up and down.

"It's a locum position," she said, tucking the clipboard against her chest. "Once Sarah's back, I'll be heading to a new location."

"No loyalty," he sneered.

"Varying experience," she corrected. "I've been in a dozen cities with a lot of different sized companies, each with different needs. It's a good way to gather a lot of experience in a short amount of time." She pasted a polite smile on her face. "Is there anything else you might need from me, Mr. Odinson?"

Loki scowled at her. "They should have told you."

"Told me what?"

"Do not _ever_ call me Odinson. Or sir. Just Loki."

"Oh. I'm sorry. Is there anything else you need, Loki?"

His jaw remained tight, but his eyes were assessing. "No, not right now."

She knew he would access her personnel file as soon as she left, and his paranoia would lead him to possibly look into interacting with her again. She would have to play this very carefully, and make sure she wasn't as memorable as she feared she might be.

***

Thor Odinson and his girlfriend Jane Foster sat in the company cafeteria. She often visited from the university where she taught classes in astronomy and astrophysics, a competitive field and one notorious for having few women in it. She was quite gifted but also very approachable. It was sometimes almost comical how absentminded she could be, not keeping track of her cell phone or names of people she just met, but she was usually juggling some kind of complex formulae in the back of her head as she went about her day. Her pockets were usually full of notepads and pencil stubs, and it was a common occurrence for her to stop what she was doing, take out the pad, jot something down, frown at it, make corrections, then put everything away and continue as if there had been no interruption at all.

They had met at a charity event at the university, where Thor had gone to personally gift the school with the Odinson endowment for business graduates. He knew nothing about STEM, but had literally bumped into Jane and been mortified at spilling his drink all over her. They wound up talking, and he had offered to have his driver take her home and pay for dry cleaning. She hadn't particularly cared for the dress she had worn to the event, and didn't care about the niceties of its care. Instead, she was more taken with him, finding him charming and sweet. They had talked all night, exchanged numbers, and soon enough were an established item. While the casual observer might not have understood it, Thor was clearly in love and adored her. He nodded at intervals when she explained her research in interstellar phenomena, and she also gave him rapt attention when he explained a business takeover.

It was also clear from Odin Corporation events that Loki was insanely jealous of them.

Loki sought out Natasha at an event they were sponsoring at the business school, where she was working with Sif, the head of Thor's public relations team. She was a tall, statuesque woman with flowing dark hair, porcelain skin and a no nonsense demeanor.

"This is a legal assistant," Loki told Sif with some disdain in his voice.

"Yes, and she has been invaluable in assisting me," Sif replied, dismissive of Loki. She signaled for the security team, led by Volstagg, Hogun, and Fandral. Hogun was the more taciturn of the three, but they were fiercely loyal to Thor and the Odinson family; Natasha wasn't sure if Loki would count as part of that family due to his own actions.

"If there's a problem, I could leave," Natasha offered.

"Absolutely not. You are here at my request." Sif glared at Loki. "He never stays for these, so don't worry about his sour attitude."

"Forgive me for thinking this is ridiculous and petty," he sneered.

"Your complaints are petty," Sif replied, lip curling in aggravation.

"I believe the provost would want to speak with you," Natasha said to Sif, eyeing the gentleman in question across the party. She glanced down at the clipboard she had. "He did have questions about the endowment."

Nodding at Natasha, she went off in search of the provost. That left her with Loki, who appeared irritated at her intervention. "Can I help you, Loki? I wasn't aware you would be here tonight."

He scowled at her pleasant expression. "You. Everywhere I turn, there you are."

She shrugged at him. "The others in Legal all had things to do tonight."

"I find it hard to believe that you don't."

"I'm not from this area. Everyone else knows what's around town to do."

"So why don't you ask them?"

"I'm only going to be here another ten weeks. Why bother? I'll be moving after that."

Loki frowned at her. "It's a rather lonely existence."

"Maybe. But it works for me." She gave him a polite smile and gave him her full attention, pen in hand and poised over the clipboard. "You never did answer my question, though. Is there something you needed tonight?"

The frown deepened into a scowl. "No," he finally snarled, hands curling into fists at his sides.

She watched him stalk off from the party, wondering about his mental stability.

***

"Why are there no personal photos of you or your family in the company database?" Loki asked abruptly, coming to Natasha's cubicle.

Was he _stalking_ her? She wasn't supposed to be this memorable to him. Discussing it with Clint the night before, the two had thought it best that she continue with her persona rather than pretend she was being yanked out early. Natalie Rushman was a very skilled legal assistant, and so far those she worked with were very pleased with her flexibility in being pulled into other areas. Most of the other legal assistants whined and pleaded to leave. She just pasted a smile on her face and saw it as an opportunity to see more of Loki's interactions with the rest of the Odin Corporation staff.

Damn. She was probably going to have to go under as Natalie, then.

"Are there supposed to be? I'm the one working here, not my family." Natalie didn't even look up from her computer, where she was comparing changes in documentation for one of Loki's upcoming business mergers.

_"Look at me."_

Startled, Natasha jerked her eyes from the screen and looked at Loki. His expression was one of intensity, and her heart sank. He was obsessed, then. She was _definitely_ going to have to go under as Natalie.

"Did I do something wrong? My supervisors—"

"No," he snarled. "You have excellent credentials and your supervisor already plans to give you a glowing recommendation when you move on to your next locum tenens position."

"I don't understand. What is it, then? I'm trying to do everything asked—"

"And no one else does. Why is that?"

She blinked. Of all the silly things to latch on to... "I have a strong work ethic?"

Loki's lip curled in derision. "Something is off about you. I'll figure it out."

Something in Natasha's chest seized with anger. Not at the thought of being caught; she was skilled enough in a variety of combat techniques that she knew she could defend herself. But her Natalie persona was _flawless_ and she was busting her ass at this job. _Natalie_ was fucking pissed that this self absorbed rich boy thought he was better than her and could harass her with impunity.

Well, fuck that.

"Just because you run the company doesn't give you the right to stalk me and harass me," she snapped. "I am doing my job and whatever other inane things that are asked of me. You have _no right_ to belittle my efforts just because you're bored!"

Natalie sat back after a moment, almost horrified with herself for the outburst. Natasha wanted to sigh, and hoped this didn't mean her carefully crafted character had to be thrown away.

But Loki straightened, a ghost of a smirk on his lips as he contemplated her. "You surprise me, little Natalie. Not many can do that anymore."

"Do I need to call security on you?"

He laughed outright, drawing attention from the other legal assistants. "They work for me. What do you think they would do for you?"

"Serve as witnesses if I have to file a police report," Natasha replied sweetly.

Loki laughed again. "You are a balm, meant to soothe."

"How is being threatened with harassment charges soothing?" she wondered aloud.

"Because unlike the other fools here, you actually say what you think."

And with that pronouncement, Loki left the room.

Yep, she was definitely going to have to be Natalie Rushman in the dream.

***

Clint frowned at Natasha, lo mein hovering an inch away from his mouth on the end of his chopsticks. "This can't be a good thing."

"Well, Natalie is only going to be there for a temporary amount of time, and seeing her in the dream can be written off as just seeing her in the company on a regular basis," Steve reasoned. He was sitting in front of the whiteboard, where he kept track of everyone's thoughts as they were trying to put together the plan of attack.

The current plan was splitting the resolution of Loki's grief into three parts. "Like a three-act stage play," had been Tony's comment at Steve's suggestion. All eyes had swiveled toward him, but he unapologetically shrugged at that. "Pepper and I date, you know. She happens to like theater, so we've gone to a few plays. And you losers better not make me miss date night. She was disappointed that I'd forgotten our last one. I owe her."

Act one was labeled "Setting the Stage" after Tony's play comment. Act two was labeled "Descent" and Act three was labeled "Letting Go," meaning Loki's grief. No one mentioned the specter of a shade running around in Steve's dreams.

"If we set the stage, so to speak," Steve began, "we use his attention to Natasha as Natalie. He knows nothing about her. So in the dream, we have them meet up somewhere informal, outside of the company. Not as strict, drinks can be had. Discuss Natalie being adopted, and she's obviously very well adjusted about it. It drops the hint that being adopted isn't horrible, and we test his response to that."

"Stage two would be what, then?" Clint asked, narrowing his eyes at Steve. "Because if stage three is the grieving, how do we transition from the adoption thing to that?"

"I'm guessing that's why it's called descent," Tony called out from his desk. He was pored over a number of sketchbooks, already running with the idea of a business meeting. "Economics convention, you think? Do they even have those? What am I asking? Of course they have those, there's a convention for everything."

"Well?" Clint prompted. "How do we transition it?"

"It has to be a natural transition," Bruce reminded them. "This entire thing is traumatic for him. You just don't tell someone that adoption is okay and then hit them with the grieving. A lot of times, there might be acting out. So we'd need to give him space to be angry and complain that it's not fair."

"Basically, the stages of grief, then," Tony said. "You just spread it out over two layers. Or do we even need two layers for that? Can we just do it as a dream within a dream?"

"For our trauma patients, we did it in three or four layers, but the deeper in you go, the more unstable it is. It—"

"Okay," Steve said with a nod. "So maybe just two layers? Or if we keep it three, it gives him more time, more of a gradual way to deal with the process. So then by the third layer, we can also reintroduce the concept of Thor and Frigga Odinson as his family again."

Clint nodded. "That _is_ a useful thing to put in there."

"Sounds good to me," Natasha said with a shrug.

"Another thing," Steve murmured, a grimace on his face. "I'd hate to bring it up, but..." He sighed. "Maria's making noises about us using the office space. I know Thor's footing the bill, so getting shorted on the fees can't be it. She hates me, or else I'd ask what the deal is. We need someone persuasive."

All eyes swiveled toward Natasha. "What?"

"You're the one that always says you can be persuasive," Bruce pointed out.

"Yes, but sometimes that means seducing people!" No one seemed surprised by that. "Wait a second. You guys don't expect me to seduce Maria, do you?!"

"I'll watch if you do," Clint offered. He ducked the empty fried rice carton she chucked at his head and grinned.

"Can I join you? Maybe it'll give Pepper ideas!" Tony chimed in.

"You guys all _suck."_

"She likes you," Steve said earnestly. "I just expect you to talk to her, find out what's going on. Maybe it's just that her boss doesn't want us around, maybe she doesn't want to even tangentially be associated with dream share anymore. Or maybe it's just me."

"Well, if you've been a dick to _us,"_ Clint began in a musing tone of voice, "I am incredibly not surprised by you being a dick to other people."

Steve sighed. "Okay, okay. Can we get off the 'beating up Steve' train right now?" He rubbed at his face tiredly. "If she doesn't want to deal with me, I can always try to arrange it so that she doesn't have to. But if I ask her, she'll probably kick us out."

"Why _does_ she hate you?" Bruce asked.

Steve sighed. "I made her look bad in front of her boss by pulling a fast one on the security she hired and digging around in the secure storage facility they were hired to protect. It was full of stolen weapons, and that was a day of awkward explanations."

"So we need Natasha to use her feminine wiles to clean up your mess?" Tony asked.

"Do you guys honestly think it's always about sex?" Natasha asked, rolling her eyes.

"Of course it isn't!" Steve replied, affronted. "But if it is, you're really good at it."

At her snort, Clint laughed. "C'mon, Tash. You are gorgeous and you know it. Hell, if she's not gay, she'd totally go gay for you."

"I have to admit, I find it more than a little disturbing that the two of you discuss sleeping with other people like it's not a big deal," Bruce said. "I guess I'm old fashioned that way."

"We're not exclusive," Clint said. "But she's my best friend before anything else."

She grinned at him and blew him a kiss. "You say the sweetest things sometimes."

"But no, seriously. If it does turn into sex, feel free to use my place so I can watch."

"And then you say some fucked up shit like that," Natasha said, throwing a pencil unerringly at his head. It bounced off, and she studiously ignored Tony's chuckle. Looking over at Steve was a mistake, because he was using the puppy dog pleading gaze that always used to have her getting suckered into whatever plan he had. True, most of them involved tag teaming James when the three of them had all been together, but not all of those schemes had been bad. Maybe this one wouldn't be so bad, either. She and Maria were friendly enough to begin with, and it was only to figure out what was going on.

She sighed, knowing she was probably going to regret this anyway. "Fine, fine, I'll talk to her. Just talk. I'm sure you're making a big deal for nothing."

Steve beamed at her, and for a moment it felt like old times. "Thanks, Nat. You're wonderful."

Oh, Jesus. That hit her in the gut like a sucker punch, but she made sure not to wince at the memories that were pushing to the fore. She simply smiled and tucked into dinner.

Fuck, she was regretting this already.

***  
***


	3. Warm Me Up In A Nova's Glow

Dinner with Maria was at a very private yet upscale restaurant in Paris. She was very amused by the whole thing. "So. You drew the short straw to butter me up, huh?"

"Look, it's not a big deal, really," Natasha said, laughing. "You know how paranoid Steve gets when you start getting mean to him."

"Because half the time he doesn't discuss anything. He just makes a decision and charges ahead, expecting you to follow along."

"Problem is, nine times out of ten, he's not wrong."

Maria nodded and shrugged. "Still, this is fancier than I expected."

"It's nice to get away from it all, I get it." Natasha grinned. "And hey, this is a business expense, so order whatever you want."

"I assume this has something to do with Thor Odinson, given that he's footing the bill on the conference space. My boss definitely likes the income, even if he thinks you all are full of shit. He's just too nice to say so."

Natasha laughed along with her. "Thor was nice enough to create a corporate expense account, yes," she admitted. "But Steve's worried about the office space and if we're going to get you into trouble about it."

"We just assume it has to do with all the extra security Loki had hired on last week," Maria said with a shrug. "It really isn't a big deal on our end, but Steve is being all secretive. I understand why, my boss doesn't. I have to make up some kind of lie about how you're looking into possible corporate espionage or some bullshit like that."

Natasha blinked and filed away the fact that Loki was hiring security. Clint would need to know about that if he hadn't found out already. "Well, you're not wrong."

"Huh. Look at that." Maria grinned. "So. Is that it for the business part of the evening?"

"Yeah. Unless there's really an axe to grind somewhere."

She shook her head. "No. Steve just caught me at a bad time the other day."

"Can I tell him I smoothed things over? I have a reputation to uphold."

Maria laughed, amused. "Sure, I don't care."

"Fantastic." Natasha reached across the table to pat her hand in thanks, and Maria looked down at her hand, then up at her face. "What?" Natasha asked, confused.

"Do I look that desperate?"

"What are you talking about?" she asked, frowning.

"Are you taking me out to make sure I think kindly on you, maybe give me a pity fuck or something like that?" Maria asked, getting upset.

"Jesus, Maria. Do you honestly think I _pity_ you?" Natasha asked, affronted.

"Then what is all this?"

"C'mon, Maria. We are both the only women on our teams. It's an utter sausage fest with asshats full of themselves. I figured you'd like a nice night out where you don't have to posture or be a kickass bitch." Natasha leaned back in her chair and gave Maria an assessing look. "I'm guessing it's been ages for you if you jump to thinking I'm trying to seduce you."

She leaned forward and rubbed her face with her hands. "Fuck, I'm obvious about that, aren't I?"

Natasha pulled a face. "Only because I know you really well. What are your hours like now?"

"I pull eighteen, nineteen hour days sometimes. It's ridiculous."

"Shit, no wonder you're wound so tight." Natasha signaled for the waiter to return, and ordered red wine to go with her meal over her protests. "Water isn't going to cut it, Maria. I insist. Treat yourself for a change. If you burn out, where are you going to be?"

Maria shook her head. "But then if I get drunk..."

"I'll take you home," Natasha replied, affronted. "C'mon, what do you take me for? You really think I'd leave you stumbling down the street unaware of what's going on?"

She blew out a breath and looked at Natasha with a vulnerable expression. "Sometimes I just wonder if all this is really worth it. Why do you stay doing what you do?"

For a moment, Natasha thought of what she used to have with Steve and Bucky, and what she now had with Clint. "The people. The challenge of it. The paycheck doesn't hurt. But I'd walk away from all of this if I found something better."

Sighing, Maria rubbed at her eyes, then grimaced at the smeared mascara and eye shadow on the backs of her hands. "I haven't felt really challenged or motivated in a long time. It's the same old shit, day in and day out, entitled wealthy people cheating on each other and businesses wanting more security to protect assets they stole."

Warning bells were sounding in Natasha's head. "You mean Loki Odinson, don't you?"

She nodded and blew out another breath. "Well, there goes the confidentiality clause."

"You're burned out, Maria," Natasha said, clucking her tongue. "I won't tell, you know that. If anything comes up, just say it's the Odinsons being paranoid as fuck, which they are. But if you hate it so much, go out on your own. Or, if you can stomach breaking the law, come on out with us. You would be wonderful as point."

Grimacing at Natasha, Maria shook her head. "I couldn't do that."

Natasha grinned at her, hoping to lighten the mood. "Well, it was worth a shot."

Maria laughed a little. "You're a good friend, Natasha."

"I do try," Natasha said brightly. "Hey, after dinner, want that pity fuck? I have been told that I'm pretty damn amazing. Which I know, but it's nice to hear that, too."

Now Maria's laughter was more genuine. "Jesus Christ, girl, the ego on you." She laughed a little more and then shook her head. "You know what? What the hell. I haven't gotten laid in three years and I do nothing for fun anymore. Unless sleep counts."

"Decidedly not."

"Then yeah. Let's do this. I can't believe I'm saying this, but why not?"

Natasha gave her a wicked grin. "Well, then. In that case, prepare to be seduced."

It was fun to see Maria's reaction to playing footsie under the table – "Jesus Christ, I've never even done that with a man, Natasha, what the hell?" – or more subtle flirting. She had an easier time with the compliments and sly smiles, the looks out of the corner of her eye as Natasha licked her lips seductively. If anything, Maria seemed _nervous,_ and Natasha had to remember that her friend hadn't had sex or been on a date in years. Maria was also the kind to be uptight enough and busy enough not to masturbate, poor thing.

They went back to Maria's apartment, a classy walkup on the third floor. Natasha thought about shoving her up against the big plate glass windows and fucking her there, giving any passersby a show, but knew Maria would never go for that. She was the serious kind, the one that worked long hours, needed to have an emotional connection before bedding someone, but couldn't go out to a club and meet people. She wasn't a pickup artist the way Natasha was, didn't like the concept of casual sex or having multiple partners at once. When she twigged to Natasha being in a sexual relationship with Steve and James years ago, she had turned puce and couldn't meet their eyes for about three days. It had been adorable and annoying at the same time.

"Don't be nervous," Natasha told Maria once they took off their jackets. "You change your mind, we'll just have drinks and make fun of porn on the internet or something."

She choked and looked at Natasha incredulously. "What?"

"Oh, come on. You've never done that? Some of it out there is just made _so badly,_ you can't help but make fun of it because they're doing it wrong." She grinned at Maria and pulled her in close. "Don't be nervous."

"Um... It's been a while."

"And never with a woman, I'm guessing," Natasha said, tilting her head to the side.

"No."

"You don't have to reciprocate if you don't want to," Natasha murmured, leaning in to kiss Maria with a smirk. "Though not gonna lie, it would be fantastic if you did."

That made Maria laugh against her mouth, working loose the last of her misgivings. She kissed Natasha back enthusiastically, opening her lips and letting Natasha slide her tongue in. Maria held onto Natasha's hips gently, getting used to the rub of breasts against hers. Natasha gave that a moment, then reached up to stroke her through her blouse and bra. She grinned against Maria's mouth when the brunette gasped. "Not kidding about it being a while," Natasha murmured, moving to feather kisses over her cheeks. "You're so sensitive."

Maria actually trembled a little. "I always was before, too."

"Mmm, good to know," Natasha purred. "You know me," she continued, stroking her breasts and nibbling on her ear. "I always get what I want. And right now, I want you to come a lot tonight."

"It usually takes me a long time to get that point."

"Then you were dating losers before," Natasha declared. She unbuttoned Maria's blouse and moved to kiss her neck and chest, running her lips over the slope of her breasts not covered by the bra. She ghosted her fingertips over Maria's back and arms, trying to heighten the sensory input. "I am definitely _not_ a loser."

That made her laugh again, which was a plus. Maria slid her hands up Natasha's spine, then rested her hands on her shoulder. "No," she murmured, "you're definitely not that."

Off came the bra, and then Natasha sucked on a breast, abrading the nipple with the tip of her tongue. Maria shivered in her arms, gasping at the contact. She gave up trying to talk, so Natasha gauged her reactions by the shivers and moans. Sliding her fingers down Maria's torso was nice, but undoing her trousers and slipping her fingers into her panties was even better. They were sensible bikini briefs in plain light pink, nothing fancy. Maria really hadn't expected to get laid tonight. That was fine; Natasha hadn't really been expecting it either, so her underwear wasn't the ridiculously expensive lace and satin concoctions she wore for a seduction. 

Natasha worked at her breasts with lips and tongue, switching periodically to make sure that she didn't get so oversensitized that she would feel numb to it. At the same time, she gently explored Maria's sex with her fingers, figuring out what kind of touch she liked. "There," Maria suddenly whimpered, her grip on Natasha's shoulder growing painfully tight.

"Let's move it to the bedroom, huh?" Natasha asked, lifting her lips from Maria's breast. "Better angle and more comfortable for you."

She blinked, clearly not understanding the point, but led Natasha to the bedroom. She started to apologize for it being messy and the bed unmade, but Natasha pulled her in close and simply kissed her. As she did that, she pushed down on the trousers and panties, then slid her fingers right in, thumb on Maria's clit. She squeaked in surprised pleasure, making Natasha laugh a little, and grasped Natasha for balance before stroking her breast. Her touch was almost hesitant, as if not sure how hard she should do it. Natasha slid her free arm around Maria's torso and sucked a kiss onto her neck. "C'mon, Maria. _Touch me._ It's not like a woman's body is a stranger to you. We've got the same parts."

Maria snorted. "Only you can make this sound like a challenge."

"Isn't it?" she asked, pulling back to smirk at the brunette. She watched Maria shiver as she curled her fingers, steadily thrusting them in and out. "If you wanna play with me, _play with me._ Trust me, I'll tell you if I like something or not."

"You're very matter of fact about this."

"How else am I going to get what I want?"

"Huh," Maria murmured before gasping and arching into Natasha's touch, practically riding her hand. "I never—thought—Oh, God, _there,_ Natasha, right there." She moaned, clenching tight around Natasha's fingers, eyes falling shut. "I never thought of it that way."

"You do for work," Natasha murmured, leaning in to mouth kisses along Maria's jaw. "Why should this be any different? If you're shy about it, nobody will figure out what makes you feel good." She leaned down and pressed her lips to the curve of her neck. "And this is about making you feel good."

Maria hadn't been kidding earlier about taking a while to ramp up to orgasm. She gasped and writhed in pleasure, but seemed to hover on a plateau despite Natasha fingering her and sucking on her breasts. Her wrist ached and there was a crick starting to form in her lower back, which simply wouldn't do. Gently pushing Maria to lie on her back on the bed, Natasha kept up the same thrusting rhythm. She pushed the panties and trousers down to Maria's ankles and nudged her knees wider with her free hand. Then she knelt between her legs and started licking and sucking on Maria's clit as she kept up the thrusts, adding another finger to stretch her out and add more sensation. Maria had to shove a fist into her mouth to muffle her cries, her entire body thrumming with building tension.

Natasha sat back on her haunches when Maria finally came, massaging her jaw a little and then licking her fingers clean. "There we are. Not bad, huh?"

"Not bad?" Maria echoed with an incredulous laugh. "Fuck, Natasha. That was good."

"I'm thinking we're only getting started," Natasha replied, getting up to sit on the bed next to her sprawled form. She let her fingers trail down Maria's stomach to the nest of curls at the juncture of her thighs. "What do you think?"

Grinning, Maria pulled at Natasha's blouse. "Let's get rid of this and keep going."

Natasha was definitely on board for that.

***

"I can't believe you left me out," Clint whined when Natasha arrived in his apartment the following morning. "You suck."

"And swallow," Natasha replied with a sweet grin, her usual response to his whining. "But the important part was what Maria let slip, too." That got Clint's professional attention. "Loki's hired on the company for their security expertise."

"I didn't find that in the company accounts!"

"I know. Which means it's probably one of the personal ones that you haven't gotten to yet. So what is he hiding from Thor that he would need a veritable army for?"

"Wait, what?" Clint asked, frowning. He moved over to the file cabinet in the corner of his apartment and started rifling through it. "An army?"

"C'mon, you know that no case covered by the Fortress would be any less protected. So what is he doing? Moving to take over Odin Corp from the inside?"

"Shit. Would explain some of his attention on you, then."

"What do you mean?" she frowned.

"Your focus is on who to forge in the dream. Well, you don't have to now, right? Watch _him_ closely. If he's making a move on the inside, then he might be trying to figure out which employees could be loyal to him and which to Thor. Then when he makes his power play, he knows which ones to tap."

Natasha sucked in a breath and nodded. "I can see that. If he could apply some kind of pressure, figure out what Natalie wants and keep her loyal to him and not to a temp agency..." She approached Clint and leaned up against him. "That might be a whole other thing to have to deal with in the dream, you know. Getting him to abandon that plan?"

"Thor has _no idea_ that's coming, and I don't know if we should mention it or not," Clint replied with a sigh. "But I sure as hell don't want to add anything to this nightmare of a dream. It's going to be complicated enough already."

"We'll need to bring it up, though. It's an added wrinkle."

"We need to figure out who's holding down which layer of the dream anyway. It won't need to be one hundred percent set until the idea's locked down and Tony has his mazes settled, but I'm thinking we should probably do it soon. If Loki is this crazy, we're facing militarization-level projections even if I can't find any sign of prior training."

"Wouldn't hurt to be prepared for that. In addition to..." She made a vague gesture.

"Bucky," Clint said for her unhappily.

"He might not show up," Natasha allowed, letting her head fall against Clint's chest. "But I don't think Steve's in that healthy a headspace."

"Are you?" he asked gently, wrapping his arms around her.

"I've done my grieving," she said softly. "I've pieced myself back together."

"But you know what it's like to be unmade. To feel like you've been taken apart..."

"You know that I do," she murmured.

"I've never seen a shade when I went under with you," Clint said in gentle tones. "If anything shows up, I know it won't be from you. It won't be from me. We've worked out the worst of our issues, so they don't come out on a job." He paused, pursing his lips. "But Steve..."

"But Steve," she echoed in agreement. He was the wild card in all of this.

***

Steve, blissfully unaware of his teammates' concerns, was meeting with Tony to try to finalize some of the ideas for each level. That would lock in which dreamer would take which level. As forger, Natasha would have to be in all three, even though she was going to keep the Natalie Rushman persona. She had gotten to know a lot of Odin Corp staffers, and could flawlessly shift to become someone else if necessary. She would likely have to take over dreaming that level; while Steve would have to be there too, he wasn't sure if Bucky would show up to ruin the job. He hoped that wouldn't be the case, but for five jobs in a row after Bucky's death, he had shown up and shot either Clint or Natasha out of the dreams. Sometimes both, and he had tortured them first. Steve had tried to tell Bucky that it wasn't their fault he had died, but perhaps some part of Steve didn't believe that. Why else would Bucky keep showing up?

He was thankful they hadn't really discussed the shade issue with the rest of the team. He didn't want them afraid of him, or thinking he wanted to kill them while in the dream. Steve truly missed working like this, being part of a team and doing something important. Okay, maybe he wasn't a soldier in the army or saving the world, but this was still important to _someone,_ and it was a job he did well. He wasn't some kind of trussed up dancing monkey or science experiment for the government, which was more than he could say for a lot of people that knew about dream share. It was still primarily a military training exercise in most countries.

Tony was enthusiastic about the design of the dream cities for each layer. Steve hadn't even minded when Pepper arrived with lunch, Thai takeout and some Tsingtao beer. "I got the day off," she had explained when she showed up with the food. She was dressed in jeans and a simple white button down blouse and Keds, a decided step down from her usual stilettos and a power suit in the law firm where she worked. Her strawberry blonde hair was done up in a loose ponytail, wisps falling loose. She looked very young and very sweet that way, but Steve had already gotten the impression that she knew how to handle anything life threw at her. "I wanted to see what got Tony so worked up. It's good that he's got a new project to work on."

Steve listened as Tony gleefully bounded over to his sketchbooks to show her. Due to the nature of the job, he hadn't brought them home like he did with his usual work. They were locked up in the office suite at The Fortress.

"So, it's like this. We have the first layer, where we talk about the joys of being adopted."

"Not quite like that," Steve demurred.

Pepper laughed. "I can translate Tony's speech, Steve, not to worry."

Tony had just grinned. "So, we have to have a more open area to work with. Nothing oppressive or dreary, or the symbolism will attach that to the message of the layer. I'm thinking more modern style, maybe Art Deco."

"Oooh. I like that," Pepper remarked, paging through the first layer sketchbook. She tapped on one of the sketches that Tony had colored in. "Hey, that one there reminds me a little of that hotel we went to last year."

"Exactly! I liked it there, thought it was a great little getaway. That's the atmosphere I want to bring into this layer."

"And it was my idea to go there," she replied smugly. "I should get some credit for this."

"Twelve percent," Tony offered.

Pepper rolled her eyes. "You wouldn't even leave your office if not for me."

"Innovative design doesn't happen overnight!"

She huffed, though it was a playful sound and it appeared to be a frequent occurrence in their relationship. Watching it made Steve feel almost uncomfortable; he once had this with Bucky and Natasha. He once had the playful back and forth ribbing with Clint. They had been a team, a solid foursome in the field, bringing in chemists only if there were specialized dreams that the ordinary somnacin wouldn't be good for.

And then a year and a half ago, everything went to hell, and nothing had been the same.

"Thinking hard there, Steve?" Tony asked. "Got a new idea?"

Ideas were slippery things. So were emotions.

"I like the Art Deco," he said, as if he was paying attention to Tony's byplay with Pepper. "It's classic looking without being overdone. It should play into the message of that layer. It's the second one I'm worried about. That one is much more nebulous."

"Because the ideas are too different," Pepper replied. "The whole point of this is to implant an idea, but if it's too complicated, it's going to fall apart."

Steve lofted an eyebrow in surprise. "Have you been in dream share?"

She smirked. "My boyfriend and best friend are. So by extension, I suppose I'm involved. But Ariadne was involved in quite a bit, including a successful inception."

Leaning forward with interest, Steve stared at her. "She was?"

"Yep. Brilliant architect. Maybe I should introduce you if Tony ever retires from this and sticks with real world building. She's much easier to deal with than this ball of ego."

"Hey! I resemble that remark!" Tony snarked.

 _"Anyway,_ the point is, the secret her team found was keeping the idea simple. One idea, planted at the lowest level of the dream. The others were mostly for show, to set up the simple idea all the way at the end."

"Did she tell you what her job was for?"

"Absolutely not! And I don't want to know those kinds of details," she admonished, wagging her finger in his direction. "But it sounds to me like you're making things too complicated. Make it even simpler. Remember, it's a dream. You have to work with _dream logic,_ not real world logic."

"We can still keep the Art Deco, right?" Tony asked Steve. "I really like the look and feel of it."

Steve looked through the sketches again. Keep it simple, stupid. It was the first rule any kid learned in school, and he had forgotten it.

Mostly because Bucky and Natasha frequently called him stupid. Too many memories, too many tangled emotions, too many regrets.

"The idea at the end is to let go of negative emotions," Steve murmured. "Grief, anger, pain, all of it. Keep the love and fond memories, get rid of the baggage."

"This sounds like the set up to a bad joke," Tony remarked.

"If we want to play up the positive aspect of things, we want everything light and airy. Happy kind of architecture. Nothing overpowering, nothing oppressive," Steve continued as if Tony hadn't spoken. He had noted that Pepper did that a lot when she had a point to make. It seemed to be a very good technique in handling Tony's snarking.

"We need to symbolize it somehow, you know," Tony told him. "You don't just say 'let it go' and it magically happens. There has to be some symbolic thing to tell him that the bullshit and daddy issues aren't worth keeping."

Steve looked at Tony. "Then he has to get rid of his father's things. That'll be the final layer of the dream. We'll need to recreate their boyhood home, and he's going to have to get rid of their father's belongings himself."

"Thor did it in the real world, didn't he?" Pepper asked, frowning. "So he never got closure."

"You follow the gossip columns?" Steve asked, surprised at her.

She rolled her eyes. "You'd be surprised what high powered lawyers talk about during breaks or when paperwork threatens to drop our IQ's. Plus, that paparazzi spread from last summer in Monaco? Have you _seen_ what he looks like in a swimsuit?"

"Hey!" Tony cried, though the others could tell he wasn't insulted. "You're supposed to be looking at me, Pep."

"And that's why I drag you out of your office, honey." She grinned and leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek. "I've got other errands to run, and you have homework," she said, nodding at the spread of sketchbooks on the table. "It's probably going to be a long night for you. I could always ask around, see if I could snag tickets to a benefit the Odinsons throw. There's usually one or two things they have at their house. Or see if one of the interns knows Jane."

Steve and Tony gaped at her. "Why didn't you mention this before?" Steve asked.

"Tony never mentioned it," Pepper replied with a shrug. "What's your time frame?"

"Natasha's cover ends in nine weeks."

"Plenty of time to pull some strings on my end." Pepper rose gracefully and grinned at Steve's surprise. What was it about redheads throwing him for a loop? "You boys play nice, and I'll see what I can do. I am very talented and well connected in Paris."

"I'm starting to see that," Steve commented.

Waiting until Pepper made her goodbyes and left, Steve turned to Tony. "She's amazing. Why haven't you married her yet?"

"Oh, please. Like she wants me tying her down. This way, if she gets a partnership offer, she can take off immediately."

"She could do that even if you're married."

"Not to the old school bigwigs in the field. They see a wedding ring as an anchor."

Steve winced. "That sucks."

"Tell me about it. It's not like we need that, anyway." Tony shuffled through the pages in his notebook for the second layer. "Bright and airy, huh? Convention for the first level, his childhood home for the third. We're going to want something fun in between."

"Like having someone dream up a beach?" Steve offered.

Tony snorted. "Too conventional. I'm disappointed in you. If we go by gossip columns, he likes icy places. Skiing, snowboarding, stuff like that. And he's something of a geek, I think. But the way Natasha talked about him, I'm thinking he's got a drama queen streak."

"So what would that boil down to?"

He grinned in response. "Give the diva what he wants, obviously. He wants his name in lights, he wants applause and adoration." When Steve clearly didn't get it, Tony shook his head. "Give him control of Odin Corp. Let him think he took it over. Have you seen that building? It's all glass and golden accents, like a spire up into the sky. Just give it to him, see what he does with it. That would be the positive emotion you want to feed on and build up when you take him down to daddy issues."

"You know, I think that just might work."

"Of course it will. I'm brilliant that way."

Rolling his eyes, Steve sighed. "Let's not push the issue."

Laughing, Tony grabbed his sketchbook and got to work.

***

Clint returned from various offices and archives in Paris to The Fortress. He was armed with all sorts of blueprints for Tony, base chemicals for Bruce to tinker with, vital records and interviews that he had collected regarding the Odinson family. He had even managed to wrangle some time with Frigga Odinson, even though Thor had clearly not informed her of his intentions to use inception to mend the family rift. He had posed as a freelance journalist trying to do a piece on her humanitarian efforts in the poorer neighborhoods in Paris. From there, the troubled woman had actually spoken of her family difficulties as her inspiration, making him think that she was incredibly lonely without her husband and children. When he had commented on that in an oblique manner, she had given him a sad smile. "You have no children, then," she observed with a soft sigh. "They are everything to me. Family is everything. It's built up of relationships, and they're all that matters. Everything in this shining city is meaningless without family. What else would you work for, if you don't have that?"

"I suppose that's why I'm working on this story, then. Maybe I can figure it out."

She had laughed softly at his reply, shaking her head slightly. "Don't listen to an old woman's rambling on that topic."

"You are hardly an old woman."

Frigga had smiled, every inch the elegant socialite she had been before Odin's death. Her hair was still elegantly coiffed, tasteful gold and crystal jewelry dangling from her ears or throat, her dress a very expensive and tasteful dress in light green and blue. Still, there was an incredible sadness about her, something that seemed to suck the energy right out of Clint. "Not in age, perhaps. But years don't tell the whole story, young man. You can be young in years but still live a life full of regrets weighing you down. That makes you old before your time, and you can feel the press of lifetimes on you." She sighed and stood. "I'm sorry. I've grown maudlin, and I don't think it is very conducive to your article."

"Maybe not," Clint said, rising to his feet as well. It would certainly explain to her why no article would ever be written or published. "But I have a feeling you needed to say it and have someone hear it. I'm glad I was here for that."

Then she smiled warmly, a return to who she had been before the worry and grief had worn her down and erased her joy. "Thank you."

Natasha and Steve had nodded in understanding as Clint relayed the interview over dinner around the conference table. Bruce had set up a separate area to serve as his work bench to create his own somnacin blend; commercial somnacin or even standard attempts to recreate it would never give the clarity needed for multiple level dreams. The university he had studied with had its own proprietary blend as well, the basic formula tinkered with and adjusted to give a sharper image within the dream, as well as a lighter hangover effect once the subject woke up. The team would still have to find a long enough period of time and good enough excuse for any potential grogginess once they were through with the inception attempt.

"Grief does that," Bruce remarked, shrugging at them. "So if we have our layers more or less set, and I think I have enough of a supply here to start getting on with practice runs." He said, nodding toward the work bench. Making somnacin was a long process, and for all of the trials they would need to learn Tony's mazes, it would be continual work on his part to provide that constant supply.

"Meaning, we're going to have to decide who's taking on what level," Clint said, nodding.

"Tash has to go all the way down with me, so she's got to anchor the third layer," Steve said. He didn't explain any further, but she nodded her agreement so he didn't have to.

"The upper layers traditionally have all the subconscious security. So if Loki's going to be paranoid as all hell, you want me free on the top level, maybe second," Clint replied. "I guess that means I take the second."

"So it means somebody disposable for the first level," Tony said. A chorus of groans greeted him at that pronouncement. "What? You need someone nonvital to your mission to anchor the top level, am I right?"

"I guess I could do it?" Bruce volunteered. All eyes swiveled in his direction and he appeared very self conscious. "What? I've been working on my temper, okay? I'm not going to turn into a rage monster just because something goes wrong." He pointed at Tony when the architect snickered. "Yes, I know what people say about me out in the field. You can't help but hear that kind of bullshit, even if you're not active in it."

"Look. I sought you out because you're good at what you do," Natasha told him. "If I thought you were going to be dangerous to us, I would've found someone else. If you're comfortable with that idea, you have my support."

"Thank you," he said, giving her a gracious nod.

"So I guess we have that set," Tony said. He leaned back in his chair with his food, putting his feet up on the table despite the glares he got from others. "I'm working on the overall layouts, trying to add in hidey-holes and switchbacks and stuff, just in case. I figure it can't hurt to be prepared if something goes wrong."

There was a knock on the door before it opened. Maria appeared uncomfortable and she ducked into the room. "I know you guys said that you needed to be undisturbed, but Thor's here. He's demanding to be let up."

Natasha looked concerned. "Weren't you supposed to leave four hours ago?"

Maria sighed and tucked her dark hair behind her ears. "Something came up. As always." She studiously ignored Natasha's pointed sigh and looked over in Steve's direction. "Well?"

Now it was Steve's turn to sigh. "Send him up. Something must have happened."

That something turned out to be his desire to join them on the inception. Thor waited patiently through the protests, then pulled up a chair at the head of the table. That set him across from Bruce and his adjoining table full of glassware, Steve and Tony on one side of the table, Clint and Natasha on the other. He merely smiled at them magnanimously, as if their discord was an everyday occurrence and not worth worry.

"Friends," he began in a patient tone of voice. "This is my _brother_ we are talking about. I just want to ensure his safety. You gave me a time frame of nine weeks for this to happen, and I have the perfect opportunity for you. My mother is hosting one of her elaborate charity balls in two months. Natasha of course will be there to help assist Sif and some of the publicity staff, I'll make sure of that. The rest of you can be either on staff to help or you can come as guests, whichever is easiest for you."

Tony raised his hand. "I can come as a guest. My girlfriend is Pepper Potts, you might have heard of her. She's amazing and brilliant as a lawyer."

"I think I have," Thor said with a polite incline of his head. He looked at Steve and then Clint, no artifice in his expression. "Jane's friend Darcy would need a date, so one of you perhaps would be able to stay part of the evening with her."

"It's incredibly awful to ditch a date halfway through," Natasha piped up, shaking her head. "It's going to be a few hours under. Loki might be okay disappearing, but I'm sure Darcy will mind if her date does, and we'll want to be as far from memorable as possible."

"And how do you plan to excuse your own absence?" Steve asked, looking wary.

"Jane will understand if I say there is business at hand. It happens a lot, whether I will it or not," he replied with a grimace. "She is exceedingly understanding of that."

"Lucky," Tony remarked. "If Pep and I disappear, no one will remark on it." The others stared at him. "I'm assuming we're asking her to watch over our sleeping bodies, right? I don't trust some stranger to do it. And if she's with me, wagging tongues will just say we're abusing our host's hospitality and testing out a bedroom or something. Whatever. I suggest that you two become part of whatever security detail Thor's going to hire for the shindig. Or just let you two show up solo and say you're friends of his."

"All of us disappearing for a few hours at a party is difficult enough. Now you want to come in on it as well?" Steve asked, shaking his head. "I don't think it'll work."

"Then _make_ it work." There was a steely undertone to his voice, one that his business associates likely heard often. "I plan to be there, and I plan to make sure that Loki isn't harmed by this endeavor."

"You have no idea the potential harm inherent in this kind of undertaking," Bruce said, lips thinned with impatience. The other dream share veterans all surreptitiously were on the alert for his temper. "You say he hates you? Well, you showing up and walking all over his dream is going to make it so much worse. It won't be any one of us that ruins the job you set for us, it'll be _you,_ not understanding what we're doing. There's no room for _tourists_ on a job," he finished, a derisive curl to his lips.

Given Bruce's history of punching out people he worked with or knocking them clear across the room, this was downright tame.

Thor bristled, standing at his full height and trying to appear intimidating. "You have no idea who I am or what I can do to all of you."

"Or what we can do to you," Natasha said, voice even. She even smiled pleasantly at his startled expression. "After all, how many personal finance accounts did you have to tap in order to hire all of us? How many HR rules did you have to bend to get me in ahead of however many other candidates they wanted to hire? You're betraying the trust of your brother, your mother, your friends and confidantes in the company... Should I go on?"

They were in a staring match for a moment, but Thor was the one that caved first. He looked away, then looked back at them. He appeared gutted, defeated before he even began. "He's my brother," he said quietly. "I'd do anything for him."

"Then let us do our job," Steve said in a conciliatory tone. "Everything falls apart if we're out of step with the plan, and we're all professionals in dream share. We know what we're doing."

"I need to be there," Thor said quietly. "Loki isn't doing well. There are... _problems._ I worry for his sanity."

"You being there won't help matters," Bruce said. "You could compromise the whole mission."

Something in Thor flared, a ghost of his old arrogance. "Then consider it compromised. I will be there, I will be part of this entire enterprise. You do it with me, or you all go to prison." He glared at everyone around the room. "Even if you take me down with you, none of you will be free for years."

"You think we don't have protections in place?" Clint asked, voice cold and even. "You think you even have our real names?" He smiled at Thor's indecisive expression, and it was a chilling killer's smile. "Think very carefully about what you're going to say next, Mr. Odinson."

Thor's eyes narrowed. "Plan on me being there."

When he strode out of the office, Steve sighed and looked around the room. "So. Are we getting some of Maria's people to protect us?"

"Damn straight," Clint replied, lips thin in distaste. "Let Natasha negotiate a contract with her, you and I need to go over the plans for the Odinson estate and figure out the best location for this all to go down. I don't trust him."

Bruce sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This entire plan stinks to high heaven."

"I won't fault any of you if you decide to back out," Steve said slowly. "You have your safety to think about. Your families, maybe. Tony, he knows _your_ real name."

"Yeah, well, I've never been real good at hiding my identity. Secret identities are for losers."

There was a chorus of snorts and disgusted laughter; most of the others, even Bruce, had at least one or two false identities set up around the world. Steve had even gotten fancy at one point years ago and made himself a Captain in the army for one of his identities.

"Anyway, guys," Steve murmured. "I took on the job. This is my responsibility. I got you into this mess, and you don't have to follow me back out of it."

"Yeah, you're an idiot," Natasha agreed with a nod. She shrugged. "I never did want a normal job, you know. Not exciting enough."

"Total adrenaline junkie," Clint agreed.

"I'm in it for the money," Bruce admitted. "And the practice. Decanting all of this is far more difficult than the work I've been doing most recently in Calcutta."

Tony shrugged. "Pure design, man. And it's a good stroke to my ego if this works. I still can't believe Ariadne has one over on me! I mean, she's only a couple of years out of the _Grand École,_ it's disgusting." He grinned and leaned back in his chair. "C'mon, you didn't think that douchebag could scare me off, did you?"

Steve grinned at all of them. Overcome by emotion, for a moment he couldn't speak. "I really appreciate this. The confidence that I can get you all through this." He took a deep breath, then before someone could make a snarky remark to spoil the mood, he nodded at all of them. "Let's get this show on the road, shall we? We've got an inception to perform."

***

During Frigga Odinson's gala, no one really noticed when Pepper Potts and Tony Stark disappeared together, though they had a ready excuse. Natasha was there initially to help, and Sif released her from marketing or public relations duties early to experience an Odinson gala for herself as thanks. She had made a big show of appreciating the art collection and gardens, both areas with low foot traffic during a party where movers and shakers were trying to be seen, and she was not well known anyway. Loki followed her, a move which most Odin Corp staffers did note. The staffers didn't take notice of two other well dressed men they didn't know well moving about, or when Thor and Jane ducked out of the main area.

Loki was hit with one of Bruce's highly potent sedatives from behind. Stronger than he looked, Bruce caught the falling millionaire and dragged him out of the gardens and into the side room reserved for their purpose. Jane and Pepper were going to keep watch over the collection of reclining sleepers, and were fully aware of the stakes if they were all caught.

Efficiently sliding the needles into wrists, soon everyone was hooked up and ready to dream. Thor didn't have any last minute demands, and everyone was long past the time for warnings, second thoughts or nervousness.

"Sweet dreams," Pepper said with a pleasant tone of voice. She pushed the red button on the PASIV she had smuggled into the estate earlier when meeting with Frigga.

The somnacin began to flow, and everyone began to dream.

***  
***


	4. Drop Me Down To The Dream Below

**Act Two – Descent**

The Baltimore Convention Center was a large white building full of sprawling hallways, open areas within the central space, glass walls facing downtown Baltimore, skywalks to nearby hotels and terraces with some greenery and waterfall features. Its rooms and ballrooms spanned twenty-eight acres in all, so attendees to any convention there spanning its entire space easily racked up miles on a pedometer. Blisters were all too common.

This was meant to be a nondescript business practice convention, where new angles to circumvent US tax law or build up connections were commonplace. Loki arrived in the middle of registration to pick up his materials, and Natasha was in the line ahead of him. That way, after turning around to leave, she could see him, sigh dramatically and catch his attention.

Which was exactly what happened.

Loki actually smirked at Natasha, stepping closer as the line was processed. "I don't suppose I should ask what you're doing here?" he said smoothly.

"Really? Seriously, are you stalking me?"

He laughed, which was actually a very nice laugh when he wasn't trying to be a menacing asshole in the boardroom. "No. I'm here on behalf of Odin Corp. You?"

Natasha sighed, slipping a little further into the Natalie Rushman persona. "I'm not here with a company right now. I'm looking into establishing a network on my own."

Getting his name tag and bag of registration papers, Loki frowned and moved to the side with Natalie. "Oh? I thought you enjoyed your work."

"I do. It's been wonderful, seeing the entire world and what it has to offer."

"But...?" Loki prompted when she fell silent.

Starting to walk off, Natalie shrugged. "Maybe I want to see what else is out there. Have a backup in case it doesn't work out."

"Your recommendations are impeccable. I can't imagine it not working out for you."

She gave him a smile. "Well, that's very nice of you to say."

"It's not nice," he replied evenly, taking in her polite smile and studied nervous-but-hiding-it-not-too-successfully stance. "It's utter truth. I imagine that perhaps something happened with that locum tenens company? Someone too forward with their attention?"

"Someone like you, perhaps?" Natalie replied, a bit archly.

Loki laughed again. "Oh, but I never crossed any lines or broke boundaries, now did I?"

"No, you didn't," Natalie admitted. "And I wouldn't let you if you tried."

Once outside in the Baltimore summer heat, Loki started walking along the sidewalk. He stopped when he saw Natalie getting ready to move in a different direction. "Where are you staying?" he asked, curious.

"Days Inn. You?"

"Harbor Court." Loki frowned at her. "You really deserve better than that. If it's not _too_ forward, I could ask them to set aside a room for you." When Natalie opened her mouth to object, Loki held up a hand. "I would cover the cost difference, of course. But that isn't always a good place to stay. It's flooded a few times."

Hook, line, sinker.

"I didn't know that. I don't know Baltimore well. I've walked around the Inner Harbor a few times since I got here, but that's about it."

He gave her his most charming smile. "Why don't we have dinner, then? I can show you where I like to visit."

Natalie pretended to think it over. "I suppose we can do that."

Loki accompanied her to the Days Inn, where he paid for her room as she got her belongings. It wasn't a surprise that he could obtain a suite at the Harbor Court and put that on his credit card as well. Natalie gave him a suspicious look. "Why are you being so generous?"

His charming laughter was back. "Perhaps I like giving gifts."

"They called you a lot of names behind your back, but generous wasn't one of them," Natalie pointed out, waiting for his explanation.

"Should we discuss it over dinner?" he asked.

Rolling her eyes, Natalie shook her head in a bemused manner. "Ever mysterious. Fine, fine, we can talk about it then. Seven?"

"I'll come up at six thirty," he suggested. "If we walk to the Inner Harbor, we'll get there at seven. It can get pretty busy there."

Most of the restaurants in that area were casual, though a few were a little more upscale. She nodded and was pleasantly surprised by the courtly way he grasped her hand and kissed the back of it. "Oh. That's new."

He grinned, lips still pressed against her skin. "I do try to be full of tricks."

"I can see that," Natalie replied with a smile. "Dinner ought to be interesting, then."

It was. Loki was a gentleman, courtly in an old fashioned romance novel sort of way, telling stories about business in a way that made him look like a misunderstood hero rather than the amoral villain most would paint him as. Natalie made a few pithy comments here and there in the middle of his stories, enough to keep him laughing and engaged. She didn't really talk much about her own past or family, following his lead.

It wasn't the place for it, anyway. The place for the family discussion was in her suite, where she had spent the afternoon settling in and putting up personal touches. After all, Natalie Rushman was planning on staying in Baltimore for a while to set up contacts and a network of people she could approach for freelance work. She wouldn't be living out of her suitcase for the interim, but would want a home base.

Loki was inordinately pleased with himself when she let him into the suite after dinner. "I might have been hoping for an invite," he admitted with a smile.

Natalie laughed. "I might have wondered if this is appropriate. But I don't work for you, so it should be okay. I made the suite look homey," she said, sweeping her arms around to indicate the room and its contents. "Want a drink? There's only the minibar for options. I hadn't gone to one of the local stores to pick up anything, but I can if you have a particular preference."

"You don't have to go through that trouble tonight," he replied, taking a look around to see that she had put photos on the desk and dresser, as well as several knickknacks and even a small aloe plant near the window.

"Well, maybe for future reference," she said with a sly grin.

He chuckled as he stepped closer to the dresser to inspect the framed photos. Loki looked up from the photos as Natalie poured drinks. "They look nothing like you."

"Hm?" she looked up nonchalantly, and saw the frown on his face. "Oh, yeah. Those are my parents, though."

"But..."

"I'm adopted."

His mouth snapped shut at her easygoing tone, and his brows furrowed as he turned back to look at the photos. He put that photo down, then stepped closer to her. "May I?" he murmured, gesturing to pick one up off of the table.

"Sure. Go right ahead. I think there's one of my sister Karin in there somewhere."

"Sister," he echoed faintly, not looking at her.

"Also adopted."

Natalie's parents were stocky, short and had olive skin. Her mother bordered on obese, actually. Natalie was short as well, but slender and very fair, with curly red hair and green eyes. The girl that had to be Karin was tall with black straight hair and brown eyes. The four of them on the photo looked happy together, and even the candid shots revealed joy in each others' presence.

She handed him the drink, startling him badly. "You don't have to feel weird about it. I can tell by your face. I get that look a lot," she added. "I was adopted at birth." She gave him a sweet smile. "I know the whole story, if that makes you feel better."

"Wait, what?"

"I know some people hide that they adopted kids, some tell kids when they're older, some tell right away. I always knew. Hard not to in this case, I guess. But you don't have to feel badly about that," she said, giving his arm a gentle squeeze when Loki remained staring at the photo with a frown.

"Why not?" he demanded, then knocked back the entire drink. "They weren't your real parents."

"Of course they were," Natalie corrected. "Mom just didn't give birth to me. She was there since the day I was born, she's the one that took care of me. _I was chosen._ That's important, you know. I wasn't some accident to my parents, they chose me. I was special that way."

Loki's gaze sharpened. "Were you an accident to your birth parents?"

"Yup." She sipped her own glass. "Birth mother was sixteen, still in high school and scared shitless about being a mother since her loser boyfriend skipped out as soon as she got pregnant. She wasn't a bad person, just... You know, clueless."

"You met her?" he asked, surprised.

"Yeah. I was sixteen and curious. Didn't want Mom with me, that would've been too awkward. She was nice enough, I guess. But it was sad. She didn't really do much with her life." Natalie sipped at her glass, then put it down. She plucked the photo from his hands and put it down on the desk, sliding between it and Loki. "But that's not important, is it?" she asked in a sultry tone, sliding her arms around his neck.

"How could you not care about your family if they share your blood?"

"It's not blood that makes you family, Loki," she told him gently. "It's who raised you, who cared for you. It's about the one that takes care of skinned knees and nightmares, who stays up late at night and teaches you how to drive." She let her fingers trail down the back of his neck, lips curling into a soft smile. "Anyone can fuck and leave, anyone can father a child or carry it. What makes someone special is if they stick around."

He let out a soft sigh. "Even if they lie about it?"

Natalie shrugged. "It depends on why they lie, Loki. And really, does it matter in the long run? You can love someone and not what they do." She ran her fingernails down the nape of his neck. "But that's not why you're here, is it?" she purred, a teasing note to her voice. 

Loki actually flushed a little, which made him cute and endearing for the moment. Natasha wasn't fooled in the least; he could be utterly ruthless in business and there were articles about the callous way he had dealt with competition to Odin Corporation. She also knew full well how he had destroyed Jotunheim Ice and was conspiring to do a hostile takeover of Asgard Industries.

"Perhaps you could help me forget my troubles, dear Natalie," he murmured, his hands sliding down her ribcage to land at her waist.

She pulled him down to nip at his lower lip. "Oh, I can definitely do that. You have anything?"

"Condoms, you mean? Um... no..."

"Diseases," she corrected, moving to kiss his jaw. "I'm on the pill and I hate those anyway. Doesn't feel good."

The look of relief was almost comic. "Oh. No, no diseases." He looked as though he was struggling to decide whether or not to admit that he had few romantic entanglements. "I've been too busy with work," he said finally.

"Mmm," she murmured, working on the buttons of his shirt as she mouthed his jaw. "And lemme guess, you're a workaholic. So no chance to connect outside the office, don't want to date inside the office..." Her voice trailed off as she kissed her way down his throat. "Good thing I was only a temp, then," she said, looking up at him through her lashes with a saucy grin.

Loki grasped her gave her a filthy grin. "There's nothing _only_ about you," he growled.

Clothes were shed quickly and tossed about as they stumbled toward the bed. The sex was surprisingly gentle. He seemed starved for touch, hungry to feel her bare skin against his, to taste her. Every touch was reverent, his lips dragging across her bare skin. Loki was so eager to taste her, to have her cry out in pleasure and buck beneath him until she came. It startled him when she returned the favor, exploring his body with lips and hands, stroking him to hardness and then riding him. Her movements were fast, taking him in deep, her fingers laced through his, his hands pinned to the bed on either side of his head. His expression was rapt as he looked up at her, as if her self-confidence was intoxicating.

He nearly sobbed when he came, and clutched her close. "Don't leave. It's so..." Loki stopped and shook his head. "There's nothing for me out there. No one."

"Your family..."

"They're not family. Not flesh and blood. I was just someone to hang about in the shadows, to be the darkness to their greatness."

Natalie brushed her fingers against his cheeks. "Are you sure? There wasn't any affection? Any caring or love?"

Loki wrenched himself away from her touch. "Not everyone had the loving household you did."

"No," she said quietly, watching him pace around the room, too agitated to care that he was naked and open to her gaze. "But your choices determine if you can create one of your own."

"With you?" he asked, startled. His hands twitched at his sides, a nervous tell.

Natasha pulled the sheet from the bed and held it to her chest as she approached him. She touched his arm gently, a soft expression on his face. "As flattering as that is, we haven't known each other that long." She smiled to soften her words further, but he winced. Letting go of the sheet, she touched his chest with both hands, gratified when he looked her in the eye rather than at her chest. "Loki. You can make the right choices, build a new family if that's what you want. But is the family you already have really that bad? Why throw away something you might be able to fix?"

"I destroyed it all," he said softly. "My rage..."

"You said things you regret?"

"They needed to be said."

"But maybe not like that?"

Loki sighed. "But not like that. My mo— I hurt her. I know it, I saw it, I couldn't help myself. I wanted to hurt her so badly, for her to feel even a fraction of the hurt I had when I learned that she lied to me."

Natalie cradled his face in her hands. "Then start there. Explain to her what you're telling me. She's your mother. She loves you."

"How can you say that? You don't know her."

"Love is for children, and you're her child. It takes more than blood to form bonds. I don't call my biological mother Mom just because she gave birth to me. But my Mom earned it. She was with me from the beginning, she's the one that knows me."

He seemed so lost for a moment, she pulled him down for a kiss. "You don't have to decide right now. Come back to bed. Sleep. You'll feel better in the morning."

For a moment, Loki seemed almost desperate. "In my nightmares, I stab my brother. I taunt him and I goad him into making stupid mistakes and then I stab him."

"Do you hate him that much?"

"Sometimes I think I do..."

"Does he hate you?"

"No. In spite of everything, he doesn't."

Natalie merely traced the curve of his cheek. "Then you can fix it."

Loki sighed. "You are like a balm, meant to soothe an open wound," he murmured softly, returning the gesture as he scanned her face. "There aren't many who could sneak up on me."

"Sneak up on you?"

"You come to matter to me, Natalie," he murmured softly. "In so little time, I rely on your honesty and truth to make me whole."

Natalie sighed. "Someone else shouldn't make you whole, Loki."

"But if I'm so empty inside..."

She caught his face in her hands, thumbs rubbing at the corners of his mouth. "Loki, if you're waiting for someone to fill you up and give your life meaning, you'll never feel full. I'm not enough. I can't be."

"But you don't hurt this way."

"I've lost people, too," she murmured before she meant to even mention it. "I know what it's like to feel lost," she continued after a while. She might as well continue in his vein, especially since she had his attention. "It's... It's painful," she said, her voice betraying all of the rage and hurt she had suppressed for the past year and a half. That visibly startled Loki, and he stared at her with wide eyes and parted lips as he wrapped his arms around her. "It's not being empty if they're gone, though. The memories are still with you. Good and bad, all of it. Because they're part of you. They influenced you. They helped make you who you are."

"But he betrayed me," Loki replied, voice shaking. "He _lied_ to me."

"And he's not here to justify or explain or make it up to you," Natasha said, stroking his hair gently, a soothing caress. He responded to it even though he clearly didn't understand why. "Your pain is real, Loki. But it's up to you what to do with it. Do you let it consume you? Or do you let go? You were happy once, weren't you?"

"I thought I was. But then I learned the truth," he replied, bitterness creeping into his voice.

"But the truth doesn't invalidate the happy times. It doesn't mean you weren't happy when you were a child. It doesn't mean he didn't love you, didn't do whatever he could for you. Maybe he's from the old school of adoption, where they don't tell the kids anything about their biological families, where they think even knowing you're adopted will make you think you don't belong."

"Because I didn't—"

"You were _chosen,"_ Natasha interrupted, voice still lulling and gentle, still stroking his hair in the circle of his arms. "It was a made family, not a born one, but that doesn't make it any less real, any less powerful. Family is more than just blood, Loki. Family is whoever you care for, whoever you would do anything for."

Something in him broke, and he tucked his head into the crook of her neck and sobbed. She rocked him, making soothing nonsense noises as if he was a child. This had proceeded with the logic of a dream; in his own mind, he was far too easily shattered and broken, too emotionally volatile and hurt. He _wanted_ to believe it, she realized, but considered himself too unworthy of the love that he craved.

In that regard, the two of them were frighteningly similar.

***

Clint met up with Natasha at the prearranged time. "Well? How is it going?"

"It's worse than we thought," she said shortly.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"That sense of self we were banking on? _Isn't there._ Externally, he looks like a sociopathic bastard without a conscience. Internally, he's a sociopathic bastard because he thinks no one can love him and it's the only way to get respect."

Rolling his eyes, Clint paced and looked over at Steve. "Well? What do we do?"

"It's worse than we thought," Natasha repeated to the group, brows knit in anger and dismay. "He's an even bigger mess than he looked. This is going to be horrible."

"Can it be done?" Steve asked, looking at her intently.

She bristled at him. "I can salvage this, if that's what you're asking."

"I am. We need to do this."

"You just want to get your name back out there," Clint accused. "You don't give a shit about what the rest of us have to go through."

Steve shook his head. "That's not true..."

"Listen. Thor is out there somewhere, maybe making a muck of what we're trying to in here. I don't know if it's a good thing or a bad thing that we haven't seen him yet," Clint said.

"I chalk it up as a good thing," Natasha pointed out. "I'm going to count that as a blessing, as well as the fact that we haven't seen anyone _else_ running through here."

"Anyone else?" Tony asked, frowning. "Pepper and Jane weren't interested in coming down here to see what we're doing."

Sighing, Steve shook his head. "They mean Bucky." At his blank look, Steve sighed again. "I have a shade. Bucky. Our former partner in crime."

"Wait. We didn't really talk about this in detail," Tony said, frowning even more deeply.

"Maybe he really is over his grief?" Natasha suggested. By the tone of her voice, she obviously didn't think that was a viable reason.

All eyes swung toward Steve, who shook off their concern. "Listen. It's going to be okay. I can control it if he does show up. We'll all be fine, and then we can get back out there to work." He gave Clint and Natasha a rakish grin. "It's been like old times so far, you know? I miss that. I really miss that. Don't you?

"If the shade _is_ here," Bruce asked, leaning against a table in the warehouse they were meeting in, "what is he likely to do?"

"Shoot us. Torture us. _Kill us,"_ Clint said, looking directly at Steve. "Trust me, all of that hurts like a bitch."

"But then if he shoots you, you wake up. Right now, that's annoying, but you're not the dreamer for this level. Bruce is. So it would just collapse," Tony said, smiling as if he had solved a particularly nasty problem.

"It doesn't work that way," Bruce said with a frown, shaking his head.

"What are you talking about?" Natasha asked, looking at him in concern.

"All this talk about deep sedation... Have none of you worked with that before?"

"A dream within a dream is as technical as it ever got," Clint said.

"And most of the time, we didn't even need to do that," Steve pointed out.

"Deep sedation doesn't work exactly the same way as lighter versions with somnacin," Bruce told them. He took his glasses off and buffed them on the hem of his dark purple button down shirt. Putting them on, he saw that he had everyone's rapt attention. "The dreams are deep, they're clear, but they are also unstable. I've told you that a lot. I thought you understood what that meant," he said, shoulders curling a little in an apologetic manner.

"That means what?" Natasha asked.

"Limbo. It means if you're killed, you don't go up toward consciousness. You go down to limbo and into unconsciousness."

"Are you kidding me?" Clint cried as Natasha shouted "What the fuck?!" Tony was stunned, but Steve... he looked as though he expected that, as if he understood that from the very beginning and hadn't cared one way or another what would happen along the way.

Natasha rushed forward and grabbed him by the front of his jacket. "You never told us about limbo, Steve. That's too high a risk! If it shoots us," Natasha hissed, "we don't wake up. There's no waking up ever again. Is that what you signed us up for? Because no amount of money in the world is worth that."

"We still answer to our employer," Steve murmured. "We're only on the first level. We can rearrange the plan a little, change the motivation, maybe..."

"You don't understand," Natasha growled at him. She shoved him away, and Steve actually staggered back a few steps. "Loki's unstable. There is _nothing_ for me to build on as we go further in."

"So build him something."

Natasha threw up her hands in frustration and rolled her eyes. Tony looked over from where he sat at the sidelines. "Build. You don't mean that literally, do you?"

Clint sighed. "Tony..."

"Because I'm serious. Look around, obviously I know my shit and I can build anything. I can grasp concepts easily, and I can change dreams on the fly if you need me to." Tony got up and gestured around him with wide movements. "He's looking to build something big and grand. A monument to his ego. So we give it to him. And while he's patting himself on the back for that, you go in and make it part of him."

Everyone stopped and stared at him. "What?"

"He's going to be susceptible to this. And we're trying to get him back to the guy he was before everything got shot to hell, right? We've only been in this time frame for a day. We have seven more, and then in the next level we have months, and in the third level we have _years."_ He looked around at the others with an expectant expression, as if he couldn't understand why the others didn't speak the same language he did. "We have time. We can build it, he will come." Tony waggled his eyebrows at Natasha. "Maybe literally."

Both Steve and Clint bristled at the insinuation. "Tony," Steve began in a warning tone, standing up from where he had been slumped in a chair.

He held up his hands in a conciliatory posture; Natasha holding a Glock 26 to his temple may have helped with that. "The point was to build a world he could believe in. Give him a chance to heal, maybe change how he treats his family. What we need to do isn't necessarily different from that original goal is what I'm saying."

Natasha removed the pistol from Tony's temple and it dissolved with a mere thought. "So we need a new plan," she said.

"And we need not to die," Bruce reminded them all, nervously adjusting his glasses. "Remember, we're so deeply sedated in the real world that killing anyone here will send them directly to limbo." All eyes swung toward him. "It's in the literature," he said defensively.

"I don't think we need a new plan," Tony said in all seriousness. "Our next level is Odin Corp, right? The plan was to let him take it over. It still works, guys. Just push the fact that he's running the show, he's the ruler of the known world. Let him build it up bigger. His decisions are golden, everyone else's importance pales in comparison, whatever." He looked around at the anxious faces around him. "But I'll dream it. That leaves you free to play hero down below," he added to Clint, who was starting to protest. "I built it, I know where all the nooks and crannies are, and if need be, I can add more."

"You're not trained for this!" he cried.

"If you get shot—"

"It's _my_ maze. I'm in control, dammit," Tony said, a fierce pride in his tone. "I can do this, I can bend this entire dream to my will and _it will happen_ because this is what I do. I come in here, I build things. I _create._ That's my job, that's what I do best. You're point, Clint. That's the part you excel at. So you go with them, you protect them from what might be out there, you help them see it through."

"If there's any militarization..."

"I'll make a suit or something. Kind of like a superhero. If your shade can't shoot me down, I won't die and go to limbo, right?"

Steve looked physically ill. "I suppose it works that way, but—"

"Excellent. So that's the new plan. Same as the old plan, but with a twist. Or a wrinkle, since you are being a crotchety old man and don't like it," he snarked at Steve. "Trust me. I've got you. I'll do this, and it will work."

Everyone let out a troubled sighing breath. What other option did they have?

***

Natalie regaled Loki with tales of a made up childhood, some embarrassing in a nonthreatening kind of way. It was an ordinary kind of life, nothing dramatic or terrible. "It really isn't important that I was adopted," she told him when he asked about it. "It's just something else about me, like the fact that my hair is red or my eyes are green. It just is."

That frustratingly zen kind of answer bothered him, even if he didn't want to admit it.

Loki wasn't exactly sure why he was so attached to Natalie. She was beautiful and self-assured, hardworking and easy to get along with. She fit in everywhere she went, while he often felt left out and awkward. What place did he have? He once would have said he was an Odinson and would belong just because of that, but he wasn't truly an Odinson. The man he had called father had _lied_ about him. If he lied about Loki's origins, what else did he lie about? Did the years of "I love you" also amount to lies? The proud comments about Loki's charm and skill and knowledge, were those all lies as well? Was nothing real?

He went about the convention center, and it bored him. Not that expected to be entertained during the event, but it was awful in a way he hadn't expected. Maybe because he was agitated enough to start with. Maybe because he would much rather spend time getting to know Natalie better, and not just because she was fantastic in bed. It felt as though he was experiencing things for the first time when she was around, thinking things from an entirely new perspective.

And then Thor showed up at the BCC, and Loki wanted to smash his face in.

He strode into the building as if he owned it, as if all the people milling about and chatting were peons under his control. His head was held high, shoulders back, steps sure and unerring as he moved through the crowds.

Thor was perfect. He was always perfect. Nothing he did was ever wrong, not like the times when Loki tried to inject a little levity into the Odinson family and his tricks backfired. Or when he thought he could learn magic tricks and nothing worked the way he wanted to. Or when he tried working with a chemistry set and made things explode. He was dangerous, not talented in those ways, and the constant struggle to try to be seen for himself seemed to be useless. His father hadn't really loved him anyway. Every statement of affection had been a lie. Why did it matter if he protected the Odinson holdings or not? They could rot in hell for all he cared.

Okay, maybe not his mother. Frigga loved him, of that Loki had no doubts whatsoever. He had hurt her terribly, and on top of the loss of her husband, his rejection had been unnecessarily and horribly cruel. It had to have felt like being stabbed.

Loki was a horrible son, and he was a terrible brother. So why not go all in? Why not be the villain in their lives? He was halfway there as it was.

And of course he was striding toward Loki in one of the main hallways of the BCC, right where the glass windows overlooked the street. It would be reinforced glass; no wall of glass was ever _not_ reinforced, the movies always got that part wrong. There was no jumping through the window and falling down one story to the pavement below to escape him. Thor was grinning, head held high, looking as though he wanted to enfold him in an embrace.

Where was Natalie again?

Oh, there she was, in one of the rooms that had been set up as a lecture hall. He could imagine her with her clipboard and pages of notes, neat handwriting summing up all that information she wanted to soak in. He thought of screaming her name, calling her in as reinforcements, he couldn't do this alone, he _couldn't,_ but then it was too late and Thor was _right there,_ right in front of him, all smiles and eager cloying affection that had to be false, had to be a front to eventually take down Loki later when his guard was down.

He would never let that happen, never.

"Brother," Thor began, effusive as ever. "Stop this foolishness. Come home. Let us be a family again, together with Mother."

"I asked you to leave me alone," Loki said, proud his voice didn't waver. "Can't you respect my wishes?" he hissed.

The lecture was breaking up. Natalie would be by his side soon. Loki could see the bright red hair out of the corner of his eye, but he was agitated and soon wasn't soon enough.

"Listen—"

Loki cupped a hand to his ear and pulled his lips back in a snarl. "I'm listening. Only, I hear nothing but noise. Nothing of importance." He let his hand fall to his side and he tried to sidestep his bro—Thor, he was sidestepping _Thor_ —but the blond wouldn't accept that. He reached out to grasp Loki's arm and pull him in, the same pleading words, the concern on his face that had to be a lie, _had to be,_ and something inside of Loki's chest snapped.

"I told you to let go of me!" He had a small knife in hand, he didn't even realize he had been carrying one, and stabbed Thor in the side.

Everyone in the hallway was staring at Loki and Thor. His chest seized, and as he jerked his hand away, the knife was left in Thor's side. Loki staggered to the side a step as Thor let go of him in shock, and Loki tried to avoid the gaze of all the onlookers. They must have been horrified. They must think him a monster.

Natalie came to his side then, slipping a cell phone into her pocket. Loki didn't even wonder at that, at the way she looked at Thor as if to question why he was there and if he was all right all at once. "We need to go," she told Loki. "Clint's coming for you," she told Thor as they passed, and Loki didn't even stop to wonder who Clint was.

She knew people. She would take care of things. He was too much in shock to do it himself.

"I can't go back now," Loki murmured as she propelled him down the stairs so they could exit the BCC.

"There's a concert at First Mariners," she said in a low voice. "Come on."

There were more people about in the street now, and Loki was lost. Where was the arena? How did Natalie know about it or the concert? He had thought she only knew the Inner Harbor area of the city. But she led him through the crowds, weaving expertly through them as he shook and felt physically ill. "Oh god, they're staring at us," he moaned.

"Quick. Put your arm around me. Laugh at something I said."

He was too startled to disobey. The laugh, false as it was, eased something in him. "How did you know it would work?" he asked.

There was Natalie's little quirk of a smile. "Do something as if it's real, and the body will follow through eventually. Plus, it distracted you, didn't it?"

"Are we going to try to hide in the concert?"

"If you like. Or we can keep walking. I said the first thing that came to mind."

Someone must have mentioned it in the lecture hall. And he vaguely thought he might have heard about it, some pop singer he really didn't care about. They bypassed First Mariners and kept walking aimlessly through the city, and he didn't feel as hunted. "What was that all about?" she asked him quietly, his hand tightly in hers.

"He wouldn't let me go. I panicked." He could feel the anxiety rising again, but she squeezed his hand tightly. "I didn't even know I had a knife."

"You must have felt so threatened," Natalie murmured, pulling him toward the side of the sidewalk, near a parking garage. What street were they even on? She pulled him down for a gentle kiss, which stilled his anxiety. "Hey. Hey. I've got you. I've got you."

The repetition was soothing, and Loki nodded. "Now what do we do?"

She appeared to be thinking quickly. "We'll get you somewhere safe, see what's going on with Thor. He's not going to press charges, you know. He's probably worried sick about you, the way you've been hiding from him."

"Why can't he understand that I want nothing to do with him?"

"He's your brother. And kinda clingy, it looks like."

Loki laughed, startled. "You think?"

"But he loves you, for better or for worse. He'd forgive you this if you let him. I know he will."

"How can you be so certain?" Loki asked, cupping her face in his hands, his touch gentle.

"Because he loves you. And that's what people do when they love you. They forgive you anything, they will bend over backward to help you if they can. They won't ask you why you need it, they'll just do it. Thor would do that for you if you let him." She covered his hands with hers, expression gentle. "When you're ready for him to."

"I'm a monster."

"No, Loki. You're lost. You're lonely and alone."

"I have you, don't I?" Loki nearly cringed at his plaintive tone. "What am I, Natalie? That I would do this, that my first instinct is to hurt others?"

"You're human, Loki," she murmured, sounding almost sad. "You're hurt, and you're lost, and you're lonely, and you don't know what to do. Sometimes hurt people lash out. Sometimes they curl in on themselves."

Natalie's expression suddenly became one of fear, even if it lasted for only a moment. Someone behind him, but she yanked on his hand as he turned to look. Not police, there were no uniforms there. Only a tall man, muscled, black flak jacket and military grade pants on, weapons strapped to his body and a machine gun in place.

"What the hell?"

 _"Run._ Just run," she said, pulling him along.

"Thor wouldn't—"

"Not Thor," she said brusquely. "C'mon. We've got to find a hiding spot."

Wordlessly, he let her drag him away as they were being stalked.

***  
***


	5. Past The Black Where The Sirens Sing

"Loki stabbed Thor and Tash saw Bucky."

Clint glowered at Steve as he helped Thor limp into the hiding place they had been in, waiting until Natasha thought it was the right time to dive down into another level. Thor grasped his side, blood staining his shirt and fingers. "It's just a scratch," he tried to say, but he gasped in pain and grimaced as Clint helped him sit.

"Did you see him?" Steve asked anxiously. He was in a leather jacket over a plaid shirt and khakis, looking fairly sedate for a man whose dead lover was going to be gunning for them all.

The glower turned into a snarl. "You think I was going to stick around for that?"

Bruce came to Thor's side and pulled away the shirt to inspect the wound. "Not deep, but it's deep enough to puncture into the abdominal cavity."

"Meaning what?" Tony asked, frowning.

"Meaning he won't bleed out. But if any of the intestines were nicked, it's going to spill the contents into the abdominal cavity. We're talking about peritonitis, sepsis..." At their blank looks, he sighed. "Death. If Thor doesn't go to a hospital to take care of it, resect or repair the bowel that's been cut, you're going to die of infection."

Thor stared at Bruce, uncomprehending the importance of that. "If I die, don't I wake up?"

"This is a special kind of dream," Steve said, cutting off anyone else's chance to reply. "It won't work that way. If you die here, you won't wake up."

"The hospital is out of the question with Bucky around," Clint hissed.

"Get Natasha to come here," Tony told them. He tapped Bruce's arm. "You watch over us, we dive in sooner. That will give us all the time we need to get this done before the infection sets in and does serious damage. Same plan, but accelerated."

"I hate how the plan keeps changing," Clint sighed. "What I wouldn't give for a simple one layer extraction right about now."

"Text the hottie, let's get this going." Tony looked down at himself as he spoke. His jeans were a bit ragged, his death metal T shirt was faded, and his sneakers were scuffed and grayed. "I'm not really dressed for a party, though."

"I don't see how this is a party," Clint replied, frowning as he texted Natasha.

"What's our story going to be?" Steve asked, frowning.

"They saw Bucky, and this was right after Thor was stabbed. Perfect opportunity to let Loki think it's his guilt personified," Bruce offered. "We'll offer safe haven here while he sorts out what he needs to do next."

"Call it blackmail," Steve said, thinking aloud. "He's going to blackmail Loki." He turned toward Thor. "Or we say that he's holding you hostage. He's keeping you from the hospital, we pretend to be his accomplices."

 _"What?"_ Tony asked. Thor simply looked confused.

"No, I get it," Clint said, nodding. "Add in an element of danger, force the emotions out of him faster. Tash has already laid the groundwork that adoption isn't the worst thing, and that blood isn't the definition of family. Someone took advantage of Thor being harmed, and is now holding him hostage. This same someone is looking to get to Loki. So he has to come here, save Thor and figure out how to get him safe. We play the kidnapper's accomplices, hold him and Tash hostage when they get here. Knock out Loki, drop us down a level."

Bruce sighed. "Can I be a hostage, too? Because I really don't like guns."

Clint was already holding a USP Compact in his hand and Steve had his trusty Beretta. Natasha liked her twin Glock 26's but in a pinch could turn just about anything into a weapon, even her own body. Clint shrugged and looked at Tony. "What about you?"

"Lemme suit up," Tony replied with a grin. He was looking far too excited about this.

Thor gave them all a wan smile. "Let us not fail."

***

Loki followed Natalie, who had her cell phone clutched in her hand. Her friend had picked up Thor at her request, but there had been a return text that he was being followed. Then a text with an address. "Do you think it's safe to go there?" Loki had asked.

"Probably not," Natalie sighed as she Googled the address. "But if my friend and your brother are involved, we can't take the chance."

They had hid in a hotel lobby and ducked into the elevator along with others when the soldier in black followed them inside. Some of the people in the lobby seemed a little perturbed by his presence, but no one started screaming or ducking out of the way. "That is odd," Loki remarked to Natalie. "Why aren't they afraid?"

"You know they have conventions where people dress up, right? Maybe they think there's one of those going on right now."

"That's a stupid thing to think," Loki remarked, but that made some sense. He calmed, and let Natalie plan a route to Thor and her friend.

"I'm not about to ask why he's here, are you?"

Loki sighed. "No, not a good plan. We'll see what's going on with your friend."

"And your brother."

Again with the brother comment. Whom he stabbed. Who likely hated him and thought him a horrible monster to be put down.

But he didn't say it, and followed her to the address. It was a storage facility that seemed a little out of place for downtown Baltimore. They eased inside and saw Thor lying on a cot. The man beside him was a little taller than average height, had dark hair shot with some gray, wire frame glasses, a purple shirt and khakis. He seemed to trying to treat Thor's injury, and didn't notice their entry. A sick rush of relief shot through Loki. Thor would be all right, then. "Oh. You're helping him—"

The man turned in alarm, mouth opening. "Wait, I'm not ready—"

Pain bloomed in the back of his head, and then it all went black.

When Loki came to, he and Natasha were bound and propped up against the wall. Her head was still sagged and turned away, but she was breathing. Three masked men in denim and leather were in front of him arguing, waving guns about. The man with glasses next to Thor with a vivid smear of red at his lips, as if he had been backhanded.

"We already have one of the accounts and passcodes. That should be enough."

"I think we can get it all. And that one. I recognize him. That's the brother. Maybe the chick's his girlfriend or something."

"Listen, it was just good luck we found him like that. What are the odds that one's going to cooperate, too?"

The first man that spoke turned to the man in glasses. "Well? Is he going to live?"

"He needs a hospital. There isn't much I can do for him here."

"Meaning he's going to die," the flippant one said. "So he doesn't need the money. We can get more from him, then. And that's the brother, I'm sure of it. How much would he be willing to pay to get his brother to a hospital? Or to keep us from having fun with his girlfriend?"

All three men turned toward Loki, who glared at them with a seething hatred he hadn't been aware he could even possess. This was _Thor,_ and no one else could push his buttons but him, no one else could harm him. And Natalie was not someone that Loki had known for long, but _no one_ took something away from him. Loki Odinson was not a man to be trifled with, and these masked men would soon learn that.

"I think we made him angry," one of the men taunted.

"You wouldn't like me when I'm angry," Loki snarled.

"S'okay, we don't like you anyway." He grinned and picked up Natalie as if she weighed nothing at all, throwing her over his shoulder like a limp rag doll. Loki shouted something angry and incoherent in his rage, but they all left.

The man in glasses introduced himself as Bruce, another hostage taken for his medical expertise to treat Thor's wound. He didn't know what the men wanted other than money, where they came from or even where they were. "You're his brother, huh? It's good that you're here with him, then. I really don't know if I can save him."

Loki was surprised that he was able to move, but he wiggled his way to a standing position, pushing off of the wall. He took frustratingly tiny baby steps to Thor's side; he possibly would have been better off scooting on his ass than walking with bound ankles, but this allowed him his pride. His damned pride. Wasn't that what got them all in this mess.

Thor didn't look good. He was pale and sweaty, blond hair lying against the cot. His eyes were closed and his breathing was shallow.

Guilt weighed him down, and Bruce had to help him to a seated position when he swayed under the load. That left him right beside Thor, basking in the pain and misery, helpless with the knowledge that he did this, not the kidnappers. This was all his fault.

He woke soon after, perhaps from pain when Loki accidentally jostled him. Thor brightened when he saw Loki. "Brother."

"Why do you look so pleased to see me?"

"I feared I never would," Thor replied. "And I must have made you desperate indeed for you to behave the way you have."

Bruce wasn't listening, was across the room, sitting in the only chair with a defeated slump to his shoulders. Loki ignored him and focused on Thor.

"They have _all lied to me,_ and you are no better. Drinking and carousing and throwing it in my face that I would never be as cherished as you." Loki could feel the hate and despair as physical things tugging at the insides of his chest. "I am your shadow, the darkness only meant to make you shine that much brighter. You are the great, golden son, the one they wanted."

"Loki," Thor said gently. "They wanted you, too. Can you not see that? They wanted you as part of our family, gave you a home, a place to belong... You are my brother, no matter what else you believe, and I will always believe that."

The words stung, slicing through him. Guilt bled out from the wounds, shame ran through his heart. _All my fault. This is all my fault. He's going to die because of me, because of my selfish actions, because of me..._

Thor placed a hand on Loki's bound arm. "You came for me, didn't you? To save me? Surely there is some caring left in you. It isn't all hate, all negativity. We're _brothers,_ Loki, and that is a bond stronger than blood."

"There are no bonds stronger than blood."

"Ours is."

Loki shook off his arm, but was unable to pace the way he wanted to. He was agitated, a crawling feeling beneath his skin, and he had to move, had to do _something,_ even if it was egregiously stupid, just to get it out, get it _done,_ get this feeling _out of him,_ no matter the cost it would be. He could regret it later, drown in remorse.

But Thor rested a hand on Loki's arm again. "I forgive you, Loki."

He turned startled eyes to Thor. "What? Why? It's unforgivable."

"And that is why I must forgive you. I don't think you planned to harm me. I don't think you really want me dead. I think you're in pain. You hurt, and I don't know how to help you. I don't know how Mother can help you. If you would even let us. But you have to let go of the hurt, Loki. It's the only way we can begin again as a family."

"Why would you even want me there?" he spat, covering his anxiety with anger. That was still painful, but more comfortable than the helplessness.

"You're my brother," Thor said patiently. "How many times must I tell you for you to listen?"

"I'm not—"

"I found out the same time you did. I don't know why they lied, but it doesn't matter to me. You are the brother I grew up with. You're my brother."

 _"I'm not!"_ Loki shouted. "Aren't you listening? We share no blood."

"You are my brother," Thor said, enunciating carefully. "We were raised as such, and I consider us brothers. Is that not enough?"

Put that way, it made Loki feel petty and foolish. He hated feeling like that, and would rather take out his anger on Thor. But he was bound, unable to harm him unless he was going to slam his body into Thor's wound. Which still made him feel sick with regret.

As Loki turned away, one of the masked men returned, gun still in hand. He smiled, and it didn't look comforting at all. "Your turn."

***

Loki was tossed roughly onto the cement floor in another room. He saw Natalie's shoes tossed carelessly against the wall, but otherwise there was no sign of her. "Where is my companion? What have you done with her?"

The masked man that had picked her up laughed. "What _haven't_ I done with her?" he leered. He laughed at Loki's anger, and turned when another of the two masked men returned. One of them held a computer. "Well?"

"Accounts cleared," that man declared.

"Did you get any account numbers from that one?" the tallest kidnapper asked, looking at Loki.

"Not yet."

"Get moving," he said, voice firm. "We don't have much time."

The three men gave each other meaningful looks, and the two that entered left after ordering the third to extract the information by whatever means necessary. As he came closer, Loki could see an arrow belt buckle. The man cracked his knuckles, grinning. "So," he began. "How's this going to go down? You gonna make it easy on yourself and just tell me what we need to know, or are you going to make it hard on yourself?"

"Where's Natalie?" Loki asked.

Arrow slid a hand into his pocket and retrieved a set of brass knuckles. "These have got your name on 'em. That eager to see how hard I hit?"

Not particularly, but he was never one to give in, even when backed into a corner. The rope bindings were too tight for him to maneuver in, and there was a crick in his back that was absurdly painful. This was going to hurt, and he wasn't exactly fond of pain in any form. But this couldn't be helped. Arrow apparently _wanted_ to hurt him.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked.

"Give me a good reason why I shouldn't," Arrow challenged. "We get your accounts, we get a huge payout. It's not like you'll miss it. All you have to do is tear apart another company, and you get back all the money we took."

"You worked in one of the companies I took over, didn't you?"

Something shifted in his eyes. "Like I said. I'm really gonna enjoy this."

"Wait, wait," Loki cried as he approached. "If I give _you_ a separate account, will you get Thor to the hospital?"

He paused. "You surprise me. I would've thought you'd ask to save your own sorry hide."

"Would you spare me?"

Arrow paused to think about it. "Maybe not," he said with a grin.

"So get Thor out of here. He doesn't belong here. He doesn't deserve this."

"What do you care, anyway?"

"You'll go to prison for murder as well as theft if you don't."

Loki thought that it was a reasonable enough explanation, but Arrow merely laughed and threw the first punch. It _hurt,_ and Loki tried his best not to howl in pain. But eventually he couldn't help it, his face and body was a mass of bruises and cuts. He groaned, lying on the floor where Arrow left him, wishing he could have a drink or two to numb the pain.

"What's the account number and passcodes?" Arrow asked cheerfully, the bastard. He didn't even sound winded.

He had a dummy account created for just an eventuality like this, but at the moment he couldn't recall it. Groaning, he winced and tried to sit up. His bonds wouldn't let him, and then he heard the sound of an explosion nearby. A beat later in the next room came the sound of Natalie screaming in pain.

"Let her go!" Loki screeched, not caring how he appeared anymore.

"No can do," Arrow sneered. Then he hit Loki across the temple, knocking him out.

***

Natasha was in one of her favorite tan leather jackets over a burgundy shirt, tight black jeans and high heeled black boots with buckles over the instep and sides of the boot. Clint usually called them her ass kicking boots; she had a hidden sheath under the buckles, holding a silver stiletto in each boot. Her jacket contained a hidden pocket with a specially crafted pistol containing four 9mm bullets in the magazine and one in the chamber. Even her hair clips could be weapons, and none of the men on the team would ever mess with her.

Not to mention, watching her emit bloodcurdling screams while grinning like a loon scared all of them witless, even Steve.

Clint came in soon after. "We didn't plan the explosion. What the hell was that?"

"My guess?" Steve replied unhappily. "Bucky."

"This place is a fucking fortress," Tony said. "I built redundancies into this, and it's completely wired up. Nobody's getting in while we're on lockdown."

"So it's still safe enough to go down?"

"Absolutely," Tony promised. He turned to Clint. "The princess is out like a light?"

"Knocked out and drugged for good measure," Clint confirmed.

"Somehow, I get the impression you enjoyed that," Natasha said dryly, folding her arms in front of her chest. It pushed up her impressive bosom, which naturally drew Clint's attention.

"Just because we're not exclusive doesn't mean the thought of him in bed with you is enjoyable."

"Point," she allowed, shrugging her shoulders slightly. Then she approached him and pulled him down so she could give him a filthy kiss. "But you're the one I go home to and the end of the job, remember? Or do you need a little reminder right now?"

"Let's get going," Steve said, visibly discomfited. Probably at the mention of Natasha in bed with someone else, if Clint had to guess.

It was short work to move Loki's unconscious body back into the first room with Thor. Rather than dream up a collection of cots like Thor's, they pulled out bedrolls from the closet as Bruce removed a PASIV from the desk. "Are you sure we'll be all right?" he asked Tony, frowning.

"The building is tighter than Fort Knox," Tony assured him. "And if for some unforeseen reason he is _still_ able to get in here, use your stunning rage issues to beat him down and protect our bodies."

"Tony..." Steve began in a warning tone.

"What? Stop walking on eggshells around the man." He turned toward Bruce. "You're brilliant at what you do and obviously you got control of your temper. Awesome for you, man," he added, throwing him a thumbs up. "I've got no problems with this."

Natasha put in everyone's lines with a deft hand. She laid down, lying between Clint and Steve, her head near Loki's. Thor was pale, but shot her a wavering smile meant to show how confident he was in their skills. "Further down the rabbit hole," she announced, smiling back at Thor.

Bruce pushed the button on the PASIV, and down they went.

***

Odin Corporation was a tall building made up of glass tinted gold and a specialized metal alloy that gleamed golden in the sun. The spire towered above Paris, and had been described as a futuristic and fantastic monument to the Odinson family ego. Loki had certainly fit in well with his adoptive family, and it appeared that the main Parisian office was larger in the dream than it was in real life. Even though he had arrived only seconds ahead of them, Loki had been a busy boy, that was for certain.

Clint and Natasha went into the building to see what Loki and his projections were doing with the space. Ducking into a bathroom, Natasha immediately grabbed Clint by his tie and pulled him into a stall. He was dressed like a high powered executive, and she was dressed in a skirt suit similar to one of Natalie's. It helped them blend in, but now they had to change.

"The hell, Tasha?" Clint asked, frowning in confusion.

"Do you really need an engraved invitation?" she asked, lips quirked into a smile.

"Well, no, but..."

"But nothing. You're _mine."_

She attacked his mouth with hers, the clothes disappearing immediately. He got the idea, making his own dissolve with the rapidity of dreams. "We have a little time, and you seem to need a reminder," she said against his mouth, her hands running over his bare skin.

"Loki rubs me the wrong way is all," Clint replied honestly. "It's like he's inside my head, making me do things I don't want to do."

"When it's really the other way around."

"Yeah." He brought his hand to her slit, starting to finger her. "I don't like it."

Natasha wrapped her hand around his cock. "Clint. It's you and me."

"Wasn't always," he pointed out.

"Could've been, if you wanted it to be."

"You had Steve and Bucky," he moaned, breath hitching as her palm grazed the head of his cock in that delicious way she had of doing it.

"We could've really been a foursome."

"I didn't want them that way. Still don't."

"Too bad. They were really, really good at what they do."

Clint couldn't help but laugh at the way she waggled her eyebrows, but he groaned as she picked up the pace. God, he was so hard in her hand already, but she was moving over his fingers like she was desperate to ride his hand into oblivion. Not that he would complain. He loved the flush in her cheeks and the breathy moans she had when she came close to orgasm.

Because really, they weren't exclusive because of the nature of her job. If he had his way, she would be in his bed and never leave it. He would rather sink into her and kiss her breathless, leaving her a splayed, fucked-out mess in a tangle of sheets. But they had jobs to do, and hers sometimes was really best done when fucking other people was an option. He wasn't always glad of that, and she certainly wasn't emotionally attached to any of those marks. One day, when they grew tired of this, she would be only his. He already was only hers.

Natasha bit her lip to squelch the sound of her orgasm. She clenched tight around his fingers, and her hands gripped his shoulder and cock painfully. But that was enough to drive him back from the edge a bit, so that the slick slide of her over him wasn't about to make him come right away. It had been horribly embarrassing when that had happened before.

Clint grabbed her ass to hold her steady as he fucked up into her, and she grasped hold of the stall walls for balance. Her breasts bounced right in front of his grinning face, and holy hell, this was why a quickie in the bathroom was downright dirty but hot as hell. "I love fucking you," he growled, hovering on the edge of coming. Just a bit more...

"I love being fucked by you," Natasha said, voice breathy. She was close, too. Dream sex was fantastic that way. "And I love _you."_

She had to say that just then, didn't she? It tipped him over and he came, spurting up into her, groaning and throwing his head back. He hit the side of the stall, but who cared? He was with Natasha, she loved him, he loved her, all was right with the world.

Of course they had to come down from the high, but it was nice while it lasted.

There was no need for clean up afterward, always a plus, and they pulled on the costumes they would wear in Odin Corp. Clint was dressed as a security guard now, and Natasha did her trick with mirrors to help her layer on a different personality. It was odd to see her wearing Thor's face and build, one of his crisp business suits in place. "Jesus Christ. So glad we had sex before you did that," he muttered, shaking his head. "He's handsome, but I would've lost my boner."

"Yeah. Why do you think we had sex first?" Natasha said in her own voice and cadence. So weird to see that in action.

She cleared her throat, then gave Clint one of Thor's smiles. "Shall we see if Loki feels any fonder toward his brother?" Perfectly nuanced as Thor.

"That never gets easier to see, gotta be honest with you," he said with a smile as he shook his head. He held open the door for her, and they exited into the main corporate area.

Show time.

***

"How is he doing?" Steve asked Tony anxiously.

They were in one of the hideaways closest to Odin Corp, and Thor was lying on the couch with a waxen pallor. He appeared to be deeply asleep, or unconscious, though that shouldn't have been the case when they arrived there. The wound had followed him down a layer, the ugly splotch of blood on his shirt at least the same size as the level above. If they were lucky, it really wouldn't grow any bigger.

"I'm alive. And conscious," Thor groaned, eyes fluttering open. He looked around in surprise, and struggled to sit up. Both men helped him, and he took a shuddering breath from the pain in his side. "Even knowing what the plan was to be, seeing this is impressive."

Tony grinned, proud of his handiwork. "Yeah, I'm pretty good."

"Honestly, I thought this would be a petty trick somehow. Puny and tiny, not able to really help convince Loki of what we needed to do. I thought it was more about the people."

"It's not just the people," Tony said with a shrug, sitting down beside him. "It's important, yeah, but you also need the place. You need it to feel real while you're in it, have the details enough to look like something, but enough give for the dreamer to add their own take on things. It has to feel natural, and progress like a real dream. It's a delicate balance. You guys are lucky to have me on this job," he added, leaning back and throwing his arms against the back of the couch. He smiled encouragingly at them, but they didn't add any more praise.

"So I am learning," Thor replied. "I haven't dreamed for myself, just spoke with others that have used this service."

"Huh. You'll have to keep in touch once we wake up. Recreational dreams are pretty damn awesome, and I can customize anything."

"I'll remember that," he promised. He shifted again, and then groaned in pain.

"This isn't good," Steve muttered, looking over at Thor.

Thor was looking at the blood coating his hand after he touched his side. "It would appear," he said, voice shaking slightly, "that I am still injured. Will this continue to alter your plans?"

"A little," Steve said with a nod. "But here is where I start to head out. I would've had more to do upstairs," he said, pointing to the ceiling but meaning the first layer of the dream, "but we had to rush it through. You two stay here, stay safe."

"You think the shade followed us down?" Tony asked with a frown.

Steve sighed. "He's my shade, Tony. Wherever I am, he's going to be around somewhere. You built a massive world for each dream, so it's really only a matter of time until he finds us." If anything, he looked almost ill. "He's good. He was a talented thief, could serve as an extractor in a pinch if he needed to."

"So he'll find us," Thor murmured.

"And then kill us."

"I'm going to try to make sure it doesn't come to that," Steve said fiercely. "This is my shade, my mistake." He held eye contact with each man so they could see his sincerity. "If anything happens, _anything,_ I'll occupy him and cut you all loose. Kick your way back up the levels and wake the hell up."

"What about you?" Tony asked in concern, drawing his arms back into himself.

 _"Wake up,"_ Steve repeated firmly. "I can't bring the rest of you down with me."

"But you'll be left behind!"

"We promised each other a long time ago we'd never leave each other behind," Steve said with a sigh. He scrubbed at his face with the heel of his hand tiredly. "He died. It was a massive fuckup and he stayed behind so the rest of us could get away. He died, and I know why he's here. He's going to make sure I keep my promise."

"That's just fucked up," Tony growled, angry. "The real man is dead. He can't care anymore, and if he stayed behind, it was his choice. He had to have known what he was doing if he was as good as you say he was."

Steve gave him a bittersweet smile. "He was better."

"Then don't devalue his choice. Don't write him off like staying behind didn't matter."

"I know it mattered. I lived. Natasha lived. Clint lived. But he didn't, and now he wants to make sure that we keep our promise to him."

Tony shook his head and stood. "Dude, you've got issues, and that's saying something coming from someone like me. But we all are alive, right here and right now. And I vote that we all stay that way. So instead of doing some kind of sacrifice play, get your ass back here, get your head in the game, and _make sure we all wake the fuck up."_

His laughter was abrupt and a little harsh, but at least it was there. "I'll see what I can do," Steve said. He nodded toward the door. "Time to get going." He paused, and looked over at the two of them, concern on his features. "I mean it, though. You two have to stay safe, okay? If you need to, cut and run. Don't worry about me."

"Then make sure this works," Tony replied. "Stick to the plan until it's time to change it again, and keep us in the loop."

Steve nodded again, then left.

Dropping down to the couch beside a stunned Thor, Tony sighed. "Jesus Christ, what a shit show. I could use a drink. Want a drink? I can dream us up some incredible scotch."

Thor nodded, and they settled in to wait.

***  
***


	6. Take Me Down To The Fighting End

Wearing Thor's face, Natasha strode through the halls with his imperious manner. Most of the office workers kept out of her way, not sure what Thor was doing there. She could hear the whispers in the halls – _Didn't they have that falling out? Isn't he banned from the premises now?_ – but ignored them. It told her a little bit about Loki's reality here on the second level of the dream, but it didn't tell her anything about how Loki saw Thor. She hoped that it was different, but couldn't pin her hopes on that. He was an emotional wreck, a bottomless pit of need, and very likely would need more than this push to get him back on track.

She walked into the main office, bold as brass, grinning at the sight of Loki seated behind the glass topped desk. Everything was minimalist, very stark and ultramodern. His office was done up in blinding white with black or forest green accents. Some of the Odin Corp gold was present in the office, too, heightening the contrast of black and green.

"Brother!" Natasha boomed in Thor's most effusive tones. She raised his arms and looked around the room. It was a very put together look, and much different from the massive furniture in Thor's office, complete with cherry and mahogany accents, gold, red and black the main color scheme. "I love what you've done with the office here!"

Loki glowered at Thor. "What are you doing here? There are specific instructions forbidding you from ever entering the grounds."

Heaving a sigh, Thor dropped into a chair in front of him. "Loki. We are brothers. Why would you be so harsh with me? You have everything you ever wanted."

The glower deepened. "You are a _boor,_ and leaving you in charge of the company would have led it to ruin. You haven't the temperament to stay in something long term. You bore easily, and then you look for the next conquest. It's just as well that I've taken your legacy from you, Thor Odinson," Loki sneered. "You would have run this company into the ground and destroyed everything within a year."

"And what do you want with it?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Not to me. I'm the boor, remember?" Natasha leaned forward. "If your quarrel is with me, Loki, tell me what I've done. Tell me what it is so I may fix it."

"There's no fixing it. The golden son is not as golden as you thought. I will never be in your shadow again."

Damn. No progress at all.

Natasha frowned slightly at Loki. "That's not how I remember it, Loki," she said quietly. "I value your opinion. Your counsel has always been wise. Did I not tell you enough?"

"No!" he snarled. "That's not how it was. Your glorified your damned sports, you belittled the learning I toiled to acquire. You used me when you could, then threw me away. Your precious friends mattered more to you. So go back to them, take them into your poisoned company, see how quickly you fail without direction."

Thor didn't sigh gracefully, but that was all right. "I'm sorry, Loki. I'm deeply sorry. I don't know how to make it up to you."

"You can't. Don't even bother to try."

"But you're family..."

"You are nothing to me," Loki told him coldly. "You are not to return. Ever."

Clint was the security guard that grabbed Thor when he was thrown out of Odin Corp. "Well?" he intoned, keeping his face otherwise stern for the sake of the projections all around them.

"No change yet," Natasha subvocalized. "Still hates his guts, still feels ostracized. It's going to be some work to open things up a bit."

"Damn. I thought the kidnapping idea was going to loosen him up. I guess Natalie still has some work to do," Clint replied, voice a trifle sour.

"And you, too," she murmured. Once out of the way of projections, Natasha slipped out of the forge, Thor's features shimmering and morphing back into her own. As she lost the height and his clothes, she resumed her usual attire as Natalie: fitted white blouse over a high waisted black A line skirt and Louboutins that would have been at home in Pepper's closet. Grinning as Clint playfully ogled her, Natasha did a catwalk's turn for him. "Like?"

"Like," he returned with a grin. "So. What work do you think I have here?"

"You know what the real Odin Corp security is like. See what he did here and get us a way to isolate him to drop a level safely. Or how to kidnap him and get him to the original meeting point." She leaned in and gave him a soft kiss. "And when Steve arrives to do his security expert spiel, you can guide him where he needs to be."

Natasha nodded, then started heading toward Loki's office after giving him one last kiss. "Let's see how much spin we have to provide."

She knew she would be able to get close to Loki and have his confidence. When in his office as Thor, she had seen a wedding picture on Loki's desk. Natalie Rushman was his radiant bride, swathed in white lace and silk, locked in Loki's protective embrace in a gazebo. It was telling on so many levels.

Now she had to dig further into his psyche.

***

Steve wandered through the streets of Tony's Paris, smiling in an offhand way. It looked much like he remembered it when with Bucky and Natasha. It was odd to think about them without a guilty ache in his chest. He and Bucky had known each other first, had enlisted in the Army together, had been close and danced across the line between friends and lovers without quite deciding where they were most comfortable. Then Bucky had been transferred to a different squad and wounded in a training exercise. Steve had never gotten the exact story of how he met Natasha, though somewhere along the way she trained him to be a jewel thief. She forged papers for the knockoffs she tried to sell, and she was best friends with Clint. Neither of the two were very forthcoming with how they learned their weapons and hand to hand skills. It hadn't mattered at the time when Steve met them, and still didn't.

Steve and Natasha hit it off right away, and it took a while for him to warm up to Clint's snarky, diffident style. But the four of them were tight, especially after Bucky revealed that he was planning to go AWOL, stealing a PASIV from the training program he was in.

"It's the last one they've got," he had announced, anger tightening his jaw. "One of their trainees had stolen their other one four years ago, went rogue. We all thought he might be going terrorist, but I don't think so. I think he went underground."

"Safest place for him would be Europe," Natasha had announced.

"Unless he could speak Mandarin," Clint chimed in. "He could make a killing in Hong Kong."

"Wait, I don't get it," Steve had said with a frown.

"Because as much as you can be a little shit and break rules, you still respect authority," Bucky had declared with a grin, slinging an arm around Natasha's shoulders.

"The PASIV works on dreams," Bucky began.

"You infiltrate someone's dreams, you can take secrets out of them," Clint announced. When all eyes swiveled toward him, he shrugged. "I worked with a few guys doing security. So I know what you're heading toward. I can hook you guys up."

"But if you go AWOL, you can't come back to the US. You'll be court martialed," Steve said quietly, frowning at Bucky. "Your family..."

"I talked to my Ma and Becky. They're not happy, sure, but they'll accept it. They don't want me winding up brain dead."

Steve stared at him. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"It's dreams, Steve. Killing and maiming and assaulting each other in dreams as training. Less expensive than real time training, since you don't use up bullets and tanks, endless rounds of 50 caliber bullets for the snipers." There was something like carefully controlled rage in his voice now. "You don't know because you're in training for the front lines. I'm in tactical and sniper training. Up in the air, hidden in shadows, you don't see me coming."

"Okay," Steve began. Natasha and Clint didn't seem surprised by Bucky's talk. "But I don't—"

"When you die in a dream, you wake up. Then they send you down again. And again, and again, and as many times as they can do it in the training sessions. You lose track of time and reality in there. Half my team went nuts or are halfway there already. One guy woke up and cut off his own arm with the medical equipment in the room and assaulted two of the nurses with a blank look on his face because he thought it was a training session, not real life. He couldn't tell the difference between being awake or asleep anymore. I still can, and I don't want to get that bad. I don't get a say in the training, Steve. My only way out is to walk away."

Steve scrubbed at his face in agitation. "Holy shit. I didn't know."

"Of course. This is an experimental program. Yours isn't."

"Shit. Shit, shit, shit," Steve began, shaking his head. "Not yet, it isn't."

"What are you talking about?" Natasha asked, brows furrowed in confusion.

"My CO was talking about a transfer to Fort Lehigh if I wanted further specialization. I knew it was where you went, so I said yes. I'm set to go in two weeks."

Uncomfortable silence descended. "If you guys are going to go AWOL," Clint began carefully, "I'm going to need to know. I can make arrangements to get you out of the country under the radar as quickly as possible. Shit will hit the fan if you steal that PASIV, Bucky."

"You'll need to steal somnacin, too," Natasha said. All eyes swung toward her. "C'mon, boys. It's very obvious, isn't it? If you steal that PASIV and go AWOL, it's not like you can have an ordinary job even in Europe. Extradition and all that. So you're going to have to fly under the radar, and what else are you going to do for a living? Beg? That'll get old real fast."

"I do know people," Clint began uncertainly.

"I can't believe we're talking about breaking the law," Steve muttered. "This is crazy."

"Break the law or go insane," Bucky said glumly. "Fucked up options, aren't they?"

Steve sighed, nodding. "Jesus. I don't know what to even think."

"If we do it, we do it quick. Leave at the same time." He reached over and clasped Steve on the shoulder. "I'll be with you, of course. At least we're not striking out alone. It's you and me until the end of the line."

Natasha clasped Steve's hand and looked at him earnestly. Clint didn't touch him, but he seemed to be staring intently, too. "You'll have all of us. Together, we'll be a team."

The decision felt almost like it was being made for him. As soon as Steve agreed, Clint made arrangements, he and Bucky were whisked away to Spain, then shuttled to Marseilles. They bounced over to Florence next, where Clint had a contact for a potential extraction. It was meant to be a simple in and out, a one level job to find out if the young and beautiful wife of a business executive was cheating on him as he suspected.

It was after that first successful dream share job that they broke out the Glenfidditch. Clint took off to give the information to their employer, and Natasha danced around the hotel room. She gave Bucky a filthy kiss, then Steve. He sputtered in surprise, but Bucky hooted in amusement. "You two look good together," he said.

"Mmm," Natasha purred, starting to tug at Steve's clothes. "Shall we give him a show?"

"I couldn't... You're Bucky's girl..."

"Steve," Bucky said, taking a swig right from the bottle. "I'm right here, okay by me."

"Um..."

Any further complaint was swallowed by her kiss. Natasha straddled him, put his hands on her waist and kissed him. "Do I make you uncomfortable?" she smirked.

"Not the word I'd use for it."

She laughed, throaty and seductive without trying to be, and the sound shot right to his groin. Natasha was beautiful, he'd have to be blind not to notice, and it was a little odd for her to be so focused on him. Or maybe he'd never realized that she might have interest in him that way because she was with Bucky. He let her strip him to the skin, lips and fingertips fluttering over him as he was exposed. Steve looked to Bucky, feeling almost awkward, but his gaze was hungry, and he wasn't looking only at Natasha.

Good God, Bucky was _interested_ and definitely turned on. And so was Steve.

He groaned when Natasha took him into her mouth. He threaded his fingers into her hair, kneading her scalp lightly, afraid to break the spell. She stopped long before he was even close to coming to mouth his balls and thighs. Natasha laughed and then pushed him backward on the bed. They were all free of diseases; they had to know before sharing the PASIV, just in case someone was careless with the needles, but it surprised him when Bucky helped her take off her clothes and balance her as she sank over him. "Don't you want to get something?" Steve asked her, confused.

"I like this better. Can't get pregnant anyway," she said, running her hands over his chest. She started to slide herself up and down over him, then leaned over to kiss Bucky. "Like?"

"Hell yeah," he said, a cocky grin on his face. "Can't figure out who I'm more jealous of right now," he said, lust thickening his voice.

Steve goggled at that. What the hell?

Natasha only laughed. "And we haven't even started to play yet."

She had been a little slicked to start with, but she grew slicker as Steve played with her sensitive breasts. Natasha moaned deliciously and swiveled her hips as she moved above him. "Your cock feels amazing," she purred.

"Tell me," Bucky said, moving to their side. "Tell me what he feels like."

"Mmm. Thick. Hard." She groaned, throaty and obviously enjoying herself. "Hits all the good spots _just right."_ Moaning, Natasha ran her nails lightly down Steve's chest. "Fuck, Steve, it's downright criminal that you were hiding that glorious cock."

Bucky laughed as Steve sputtered. "Shit, Tash, I want some now."

"Wait your turn, James," she teased.

Steve couldn't believe his ears. "Natasha? Bucky?"

Natasha bore down harder, chasing her pleasure, but that was enough to make Steve come. She pouted when that happened. "But _Steve,"_ she pouted. "Now how am I gonna get off?"

Bucky peeled his clothes off and threw them aside. He didn't even wait for Natasha to get off of Steve. She was on all fours above his prone body, and Bucky slid right into her. Steve had her breasts in hand, thumbs rolling her nipples in circles. Holding onto Natasha's hips, Bucky pounded into her hard and fast, grunted with the effort and pleasure. Natasha mewled and dipped her head down to kiss Steve, tongue running over his lips. "Fuck," she moaned. "You both feel so goddamn good. Shit, this can't be a one-off, please."

Steve looked past Natasha to Bucky in surprise. "Buck?"

He thrust harder into Natasha, who threw her head back and nearly howled as she came. Bucky gingerly pulled out of her and she fell on top of Steve in a press of soft, scented flesh. She nuzzled him, and reached out to stroke Bucky's slippery cock.

"You two should kiss," she declared. "Gimme a show."

Bucky was only too eager to comply, and that startled Steve enough to open his mouth. Then there was Bucky's tongue in his mouth, better than he had even dreamed of, and _it was Bucky's tongue in his mouth._ Holy shit, Steve had been afraid to want this.

Natasha purred in delight. "So beautiful. God, the two of you fucking will be _gorgeous."_

"Jesus, Nat. Keep talking like that I'll come."

"I'll suck you off," Steve heard himself say, almost horrified. But Natasha made a delighted sound and Bucky's desirous gaze intensified as he looked at Steve.

He tasted of musk and Natasha and the bitter-salty taste of come, but Steve was thrilled at the sensation. Bucky's cock was in his mouth, Natasha's breasts were pressed against his chest as she kissed his jaw and fondled his hardening cock. Holy shit, was this all a drug induced dream? He hoped to hell not.

And then Bucky groaned, long and loud and lusty, the only warning before he came in Steve's mouth. Steve swallowed it down, one hand on Natasha and one on Bucky. It felt perfect and natural, not awkward at all, though could change once the booze wore off.

"Damn," Bucky said as he pulled out of Steve's mouth. "Why didn't we do this sooner?" he wondered aloud.

"Dunno," Natasha murmured, still nuzzling and fondling Steve. "Let's keep doing this. Like, again. Right now."

"You're insatiable," Bucky teased, flopping down beside Steve.

"Well, now there's two of you to keep up with me," she teased.

Bucky laughed, then looked at Steve in amusement. "She'll be the death of us yet, but at least we'll die happy."

That was the start of the three of them together. Steve had felt a little awkward approaching Bucky alone, and Natasha had laughed at him. "Please," she said derisively. "I see the way the two of you look at each other. Of course you want to fuck him. He's very fuckable, I agree. So fuck him and enjoy every wonderful second of it."

"It doesn't bother you?"

Natasha leaned up and kissed his cheek gently. "Steve. The two of you belonged to each other long before I came on the scene. I always knew that. Now there's just added sex involved."

With her blessing, Steve's inhibitions about pursing Bucky fell away. They kissed in hotel rooms and groped each other like lovesick teenagers. Steve loved Bucky rimming him and sliding slicked fingers into his ass more than he expected to. Maybe because it was _Bucky,_ and there was obvious love and care in it. When Steve agreed to try anal, Bucky went so agonizingly slowly that Steve pushed himself backward, impaling himself on Bucky's cock. "Holy fuck," he groaned, loving the feel of it. "C'mon, Buck, fuck me good and hard." Which he did, which was fantastic, making Steve see stars.

It was a surprise when Steve got to fuck Bucky's ass, yet not; Bucky never backed away from anything either, and wanted it as badly as Steve did. Bucky was on his back, knees drawn up to his chest, watching Steve intently. Later, they would try all sorts of other ways to have sex, with and without Natasha, and it felt like everything was perfect.

Of course that was why it all fell apart.

They had three short years together, not enough, not by a long shot, and Steve had been utterly devastated by the loss. He resented how Natasha seemed to stay put together, how unaffected Clint was, how he couldn't seem to get past his grief.

Maybe because he was thinking about all of this, about how the last time he was in Paris he had been with Bucky, it drew his shade to him.

Bucky stood there ominously at the end of the rue, dressed all in black tactical armor. He had long hair hanging in clumps, his expression as blank as a mask. His strides were long and menacing, yet still sexy as hell.

Steve watched as he approached, not sure what he wanted to do. Or _could_ do.

His cell phone trilled, and he answered it without thinking. It was Clint, snapping him out of his spell. "Yeah?"

"Doesn't look like too much has changed with Loki yet, but Tash is going to check. But the security _is_ different, and there are holes in it..."

Steve's gaze shifted for just a moment, but it was enough to lose sight of Bucky. Dammit.

"Stay safe, and I'll meet up with you. Bucky's out there."

"Better out there than in here," Clint remarked. "I'll meet you at the rendezvous point to see what we need to tweak in the plan."

Damn. More tweaks? Steve was so tired of complications.

"Fine. Meet you there."

Ignoring the rest of the Parisian cityscape, Steve headed for Odin Corp headquarters.

***

Natalie headed into Loki's office, a playful knock on the door before she walked right in as if she owned it. "Loki? You all right?"

He was sitting at his desk, staring at the glass top, not moving. He looked up at her with an almost guilty expression. "You would be so ashamed of me."

"Oh, Loki," she began, coming in and sitting in his lap. "Honey, tell me everything."

Loki told her about the visit from Thor, the simmering rage that exploded almost out of nowhere as Thor talked. "I thought I was over this. I thought I could let it all go. But I watched him sit there, all smug and full of himself, talking down to me, belittling my efforts to save this company from his stupidity, and I couldn't stay calm. I just couldn't do it."

Natalie ran her fingers through his hair and kissed his temple. "I don't understand. Why was it so terrible to see him again?"

"I'm nothing next to him. He's the one everyone loves, everyone goes after. I'm a monster in their eyes, the enemy that has to be challenged and defeated. I'm still standing in his shadow, as much as I am in control of Odin Corp, as much as I have brought in millions in revenue, turned around this dying company, and _I will never be good enough."_

She took his face in her hands and quieted his near-sobs. "Loki. Darling, you _are_ good enough. You will always be good enough. You are _not_ a monster. I would never be with a monster. Don't you trust me on that?"

He leaned into her touch and held her tightly. "I want to believe it. But somehow, I just can't. It hurts to see him, knowing I can't ever measure up."

"Loki, the scales are completely different. You're the clever one, he's the brawny one." She kissed his face and let her fingers slide down his neck. "You're the one I live for, Loki. He's the one that's nothing."

The look on his face was so plaintive and vulnerable, it was painful to see. He held her tightly, as if afraid she would disappear and he would be left alone. "Natalie..."

"You have a legacy, Loki. You have intelligence and charisma, the vision to take this company where he could never dream. It's yours, darling. Everything here is yours, and you're going to be the best chairman this place has ever seen."

The gratitude he looked at her with was almost guilt inducing. Almost.

"What would I ever do without you?"

Natalie smiled knowingly and gave him a filthy kiss. "I'm making you a better person, Loki," she told him. "All this pain one day will be a memory."

"I would love that," he murmured as he pulled her down for another kiss.  
And thankfully, this layer would not be as horrible as she had feared.

Loki skimmed his hands over her torso. "Did you lock the door, love?"

"No. Should I?"

"Unless you're into exhibitionism...?"

Laughing as she shook her head, Natalie slid off his lap and moved to lock the office door. As she walked back to him, she unbuttoned her blouse and added a sway to her hips. "You know what I think, Loki?" she asked in a sultry tone. He shook his head, transfixed by the sight of her moving. "I think you need to set up a meeting between you and your brother. I think," she said, untucking her blouse, "that you need to figure out how you really feel about it."

Loki's eyes tracked the blouse falling to the floor before her words registered. "Nat," he sighed, sinking into his chair a little. "It's not going to be like you and Karin. She's lovely, you all grew up as friends..."

"Didn't you grow up as friends with your brother? Not saying you have to be now, but it'll torture you less if you figure this out. I don't like seeing you this way."

Natasha managed not to laugh as Natalie dropped the bra and shimmied out of the skirt. Loki was so predictable, and he licked his lips without taking his eyes off of her. "I want..." he began, sounding a little lost.

"Yes?"

"I want to believe it can be better," he said hoarsely, reaching for her. "I don't think he seriously wants to hurt me. But he doesn't listen," he said, frustration evident in his voice. "All he hears is the sound of his own voice."

Natalie straddled him on his chair, which had been deliberately wide for just this purpose. She pulled at his clothing as he bent his head and kissed the tops of her breasts, fingers running down her back. She ran her fingers through his hair and made a soothing noise. "And that's different from you how?" she teased.

He playfully growled at her and looked up. "I mean... What if he doesn't listen to me?"

"You're the one in charge here. How can he not?" She opened the front of his trousers and let his erection spring free, making him groan with need. "Loki, this is your company. _You_ saved it, you innovated it. You're going to be fine. You're not a little boy fighting for attention or needing an absent father's approval. You're a grown man, strong willed—"

"And going to be a father," Loki murmured, splaying his fingers over her flat belly. "I'll be a better father than mine was, I promise you."

"Which also means making amends in some way. Our child should have its entire family present, don't you think? Both sides, able to take in the best of everyone and learn what _not_ to do from the idiots in our family trees."

Moaning when she sank down over him, Loki nodded. "All right. I'll do it. I'll meet with that lout and see what he has to say. I'll show him I'm better than him. I'll show him that—" His voice choked off at the swivel of her hips. "Oh, you are so distracting."

"Isn't that the point?" she purred, laughing.

He grabbed her ass tight and pushed his hips up as she sank down. Natalie moaned at the contact and pulled on his hair a little. "Natalie," he groaned. "You'll stay with me?"

"Always," she promised, clenching her inner muscles tight.

"Tricky woman," he growled, pulling her down for a kiss.

She laughed against his mouth and shifted her hips, enough to make his entire body tighten. "I know how much family means to you. They're important. They're always important. Sometimes they disappoint you, sometimes they please you. But you can never leave them behind."

He came, holding her tight and nearly sobbing from the intensity of his emotions. "No, I can't," he murmured, resting his head against her chest. "Even if I wanted to."

"So let's change things," she murmured, stroking his hair.

"It's time to make it better," Loki agreed.

***  
***


	7. Bring Me Home In A Blinding Dream

Loki was rather petulant about being all but forced into a meeting with Thor. "I have a security meeting to attend," he told Thor haughtily. "Make this quick."

Thor sighed and looked down. "I don't understand how to make this better. I really want to, Loki. I want us to be brothers again. What must I do to convince you that I mean it?"

"You don't _listen,"_ Loki hissed. "Who rebuilt this company from your excesses? I did. I did everything for this company, for this family, and I received no recognition at all!"

"You run it," Thor murmured looking up at him with a contrite expression. "You're in charge, you decide everything."

"Yes, I do."

Nodding in response to his words, Thor struggled to smile. "Can I come home? Can we be a family again? I wouldn't touch the company or question decisions."

"Because you can't."

Even with Loki's sharp tone, Thor didn't change expression. "I just want my brother back."

Loki thought of hissing _You can't always get what you want,_ but the golden man seemed to be beaten down. Natalie had said that family was important, that Thor probably had never even realized Loki was hurting. "You were too good at putting on a mask," Natalie had sighed, stroking his face tenderly. "Even I probably don't get to see underneath it."

But no, she knew everything about him. There were no secrets from her, and he had rather enthusiastically proven that while in bed the night before. She had let him attend this meeting alone, and promised to buy an alluring dress for an upcoming party she was helping Frigga host to raise funds for one of the many charities she was involved in. Loki's gut tightened as he thought of Frigga, her unwavering love despite his cruel barbs. She had forgiven him, just as Natalie thought she might, and was overjoyed at becoming a grandmother. While Loki had thought it was false emotion, Frigga had clasped hands with him, tears in his eyes. "You are my son, Loki. I want the best for you, I always have. I know you are up for the challenge of the company, of fatherhood. It's a harsh duty sometimes, thankless, even. But you can do it. You are clever and wise at turns, and you can be so protective and loving, too."

"Mother is proud of what I've done here," Loki said, voice firming.

Thor had a soft smile on his face. "As am I, if you would believe such a thing."

"Maybe I don't."

"I did what Father expected of me, Loki. I tried to be the son they wanted. I'm sorry I wasn't the brother you needed me to be."

Loki sucked in a deep, pained breath. This was the apology he had always wanted, had dreamed of getting. He hadn't realized he would ever receive it.

"You probably don't believe me," Thor continued, that sad smile on his face, "but I used to wish I was as smart as you are. You know how the books work. You have the ideas. I know people, and there are some good people here. I couldn't have done what you have. I would've had to rely on the people working here, would've had to be sure that they had my best interests at heart."

"I have loyal people in Odin Corp," Loki said, leaning back in his chair. He could afford to be magnanimous now. He could smile and feel a measure of pride in himself.

He wasn't a monster, he wasn't some pathetic idiot that couldn't do anything. He wasn't simply the shadow behind Thor.

"I'm the favored one now," Loki continued, calm settling inside his chest. "I'm the one they go to for decisions. I'm the one they trust."

"As they should."

"I'm glad you realize it."

"This might not have been my idea, but it's turned out to be good for me." Thor stood when Loki did, and warmly smiled when Loki extended his hand. He shook it eagerly, enthusiastically. "I wanted to trust in you. I'm glad I did."

"Maybe you can come to the benefit that Natalie and Mother are hosting."

"I'd like that. I really would."

Loki kept the smile on his face until after Thor left. He had a meeting with the new security expert to follow up on, and all the details of the benefit.

Still, it didn't feel overwhelming or impossible any longer.

***

Steve was feeling fairly confident about the meeting he had with Loki. The man seemed far more self assured than he had previously, no further tension in his demeanor. He found Clint easily, and the two settled on a series of rooms on the second floor that would be easily locked and defended against staff members if need be. From there, they could drop down into the next level to finish the inception.

At least, that was the plan.

Leaving the headquarters again, Steve froze when he saw Bucky standing in the middle of the street. Projections didn't seem to care that a man dressed all in black with an automatic rifle was standing there, staring menacingly at Steve.

"Bucky," he breathed, terror suddenly flooding through him.

"Who the hell is Bucky?" the dark figure snarled, lank hair hanging in his eyes. Up came the automatic rifle, and Steve dove for cover behind a car. Clint was in the lobby of Odin Corporation headquarters, and was directing the projections in there to stay out of sight. The lobby secretary was likely calling police.

Steve fished his cell phone out of his pocket and called Tony. "Bucky's here and ready to shoot at me," he said without preamble. "Please tell me you are taking care of Thor."

"Well, he's not dead."

"I can try to draw him away from the rest of you..."

"You're needed in the next bit," Tony reminded him. "They're still doing the shindig, and you have to be there. You and Clint are supposed to be his staffers now."

Before Steve could answer him, there was the sound of heavy gunfire and bystanders screaming on the other side of the car. It was too uncomfortably close. "You hear that? It might not be an option anymore."

"Shit, okay. You guys are going to hole up in Odin Corp and not use the party idea, then?"

"I have to get a hold of Natasha and Clint to let them know, but that seems like a better option. Unless you have one?"

"No, a glittery glass walled tower is my idea of a good time," Tony replied, sarcasm clearly evident. "We can always go to plan B. I have an alternate site that I created. It's practically a fortress. Which, funnily enough, I modeled off of The Fortress."

Steve blew out a breath. "So we can still salvage this."

"Yeah. But you know, if it's too dangerous, we may have to punk out."

"No! I can't do that. I promised everyone it would work, I have to see this through."

"Some things can't be fixed, Steve. Remember that. Don't kill yourself over this."

He thought of the blank expression on Bucky's face, the thousand yard stare that chilled him to the bone. He thought of the cold corpse that Bucky had become, trying to save his life when their last job went haywire.

He owed Bucky, he knew that.

"I won't kill myself. But I keep my promises."

"Listen. Don't be a hero," Tony warned. "Heroes wind up getting shot at and dying. You're no good to any of us dead, okay?"

"Thanks for the pep talk," Steve said. It had suddenly grown quiet behind him, but the screaming continued. "I think he's out of bullets."

"Be careful. Get to Clint, tell him we have to move to Plan B. He'll know where to go."

Before Steve could even ask about it, Tony hung up. Dammit. But it was probably best that he didn't know exactly where the new fortress was, just in case Bucky was homing in on him. He pocketed the cell phone and chanced a peek through the car windows.

The rifle had been tossed aside, still smoking slightly. It was indeed out of ammunition, then. But Bucky was stalking toward the bullet riddled car, a tactical knife in hand. "Shit," he muttered under his breath. Steve got to his feet, dreaming up a shield and a tactical knife of his own. "I don't want to do this, Bucky. Don't make me do this."

Bucky didn't seem to respond, and continued stalking forward as Steve rounded the car to head back into the Odin Corp building. Clint would think he was insane, but Steve had to pass along Tony's message. Once Bucky was close enough, he lashed out at Steve with his knife. Steve had to react, blocking the blow with the shield, a round parabolic item made of silvery metal. The knife _tinged_ off its surface, skittering down, and Bucky had to flip the knife across to his nondominant hand to try to stab at Steve. Steve made his own stabbing motion, forcing him to block the blow as Steve swung the shield at his head. Bucky leaned back, away from the shield, then continued his motion to duck under it and stab upward with the knife. Steve had to pull his shield arm down, hitting Bucky along the back, and he twisted his right wrist at the last moment so that the knife scored along Bucky's thigh rather than stab into his side.

Roaring, Bucky stood and kicked Steve right in the chest with his opposite leg, sending him flying into another car. That knocked the breath right out of him, and he looked up with a dazed expression. It didn't immediately register that Bucky had a H&K in hand, that he had pulled it out from one of the straps crisscrossing his body.

It also didn't register when a series of bullets came from somewhere behind him, forcing Bucky to drop the semiautomatic and duck out of sight to keep from getting hit.

Clint swam into view, lips compressed unhappily. He held an automatic rifle similar to the one that Bucky had been using, and he grasped Steve by the arm to haul him up to his feet. "You stupid bastard. I was safe where I was, and then you had to play hero."

"Tony said we have to move to Plan B."

"Shit. Fuck. Dammit, Steve. You're such a fucking idiot," Clint snarled. But he still dragged Steve back into Odin Corp, behind the bulletproof glass, barking orders to lock down the building, there was an assassin outside after Loki.

The rest faded in a concussive haze.

***

"Your life is in danger," Clint told Loki, Steve's concussion a very convenient way to sell Plan B to the otherwise paranoid man. He nodded toward Steve grudgingly. "It looks like he went above and beyond contracts to try taking down the madman, but he's still out there."

"Did my traitorous brother hire him?" Loki asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

 _Brother._ Fantastic. They were making headway after all.

"No, he was escorted to one of our cars and my driver indicated there were no phone calls made. He seemed overjoyed by your meeting, sir."

"He could have ordered it beforehand," Loki said, though there was a measure of uncertainty in his eyes, as if he wanted to believe in Thor's innocence.

"I rather doubt it." Clint gestured toward one of the glass walls. "He might be stupid, but I doubt he's _that_ stupid to try shooting up the building and any passersby."

Loki bit his lip and startled badly when the door behind them opened. Natalie strolled in, dressed in a burgundy button down blouse and loose dress pants that clung flatteringly to her perfect ass, her legs looking even longer because of her ridiculously high heels. Immediately upon seeing her, Loki's body language loosened. "Darling," he said, moving away from the window. He ignored Steve's body on the couch of his office. "This is not a good time."

"There was gunfire outside. It sounded like the news reports about the Middle East."

"No, no, we're fine, Natalie," Loki assured her.

Natalie's eyes slid toward Steve. Her lips trembled a little, and Clint wondered if she was really that worried about him. No, it was his own insecurity talking. Natasha was a consummate actress, and she could use whatever others gave her to craft a persona on the fly. She didn't love Steve that way anymore. Their past was tainted by pain and suffering. Still, Clint would likely forever wonder what would have happened if Bucky hadn't died.

Seeing what she was looking at, Loki sighed. "Our security consultant. All right, there have been some threats."

"No, Loki," Natalie said, running her hands across his chest in distress. "That takeover of Asgard needs to stop. We can't have this, not if they will burn this place to the ground." She pulled one of his hands to her flat stomach. "You can't risk it."

Something in Clint's gut burned. He'd never really thought about children, not with the lifestyle they had, but suddenly the thought of Natasha heavy with his child made him ache. The thought of living with her for the rest of his life, of cuddling on the couch and watching soppy movies while drinking hot cocoa appealed to him. Finding an out of the way place, no more dodging bullets or goons, living at a slower pace...

And then she caught his eye, eyebrow lifted. Without words, she asked him what was going on with him, with Steve. Clint didn't know what to tell her, how he could even explain his sudden maudlin urge with the wordless communication they shared.

"Plan B," Clint announced suddenly.

Natasha blinked in recognition and gave a subtle nod. Loki was confused, and turned from Natalie to Clint. "I don't understand."

"We've been working on a contingency plan," Clint lied, gesturing toward Steve. "He didn't mention it at your meeting earlier because it was never meant to be put into play. But we still had it, just in case anything went wrong at Odin Corp and this wasn't a safe place to be."

"The panic rooms in the basement and third floors," Loki began helplessly.

"If that assassin is bold enough to try to storm the front doors, I think he'd be willing to slaughter everyone he found in order to find you and break apart the panic rooms." Clint kept his tone matter of fact, and tried to impress upon Loki the seriousness of this discussion. "I would rather have you and all staff out of this building as quickly and quietly as possible."

"But where would we all go?"

"The people would return to their homes. They're not the targets. You're the high profile target, the one that makes all the decisions. It's our job to protect the two of you. Like the King and Queen of Odin Corp, if you like to think of it that way. We get you out, into an alternate location, lay in for a siege, until this guy can be eliminated."

"What do you mean, eliminated?"

"We figure out who hired him and outbid him. Or take him out."

Loki looked at Clint as if he had never seen him before. "To do such a thing..."

"What you want is my priority," Clint said.

"But if you go to prison for murder," Natalie said, hand at her mouth in shock.

"If I'm captured, so be it. At least you'd be safe." It was easy to be sincere about that statement while he stared at Natasha, so Loki heaved a sigh.

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

Staff were summarily dismissed and left the parking garage in droves. Clint had two of them help him carry the unconscious Steve into the back of a minivan, and after they left, Natasha and Loki got in as well. "If you want, you can lay down low in the back," Clint offered. "As much as no one expects you to make a move like this, it's added protection. No one will see you." That went over as easily as he thought it would, and he quickly drove to the new fortress that Tony had built into the maze. He didn't see any sign of Bucky, but that didn't really mean anything, now did it? Steve didn't necessarily need to be conscious, but apparently his consciousness acted like a homing beacon for Bucky.

That was a sincerely scary thought.

Loki and Natasha were bundled into a small room in the fortress, and Steve was left in a separate room on a bed to recover. Natasha used the opportunity to slip Loki a sedative, then left to enter the main room. "Well?" she asked, looking at Tony, Clint and Thor.

Thor's hands were still sticky with blood from holding his side wound. "I'm alive," he said, trying to smile. "I'm ready to do what needs to be done."

"Then you guys set up your dream PASIV," Tony announced. "I have to get ready."

Not knowing or caring what he meant, Clint pulled a PASIV out from under a bureau at the side of the room. He specifically had made it with longer tubing, allowing the PASIV to be placed centrally, lines running to Steve, Loki and Thor. He and Natasha could lie closer to the machine itself to set it up.

Tony soon arrived in bright red and gold armor that surrounded his body. "Check me out," he preened, hovering over the ground. "I fly, I dodge and weave, and I have repulsive blasts and sonic cannons. I figured I shouldn't use guns because a) if I accidentally hit any of you, and b) I don't know what killing part of your mind is going to do in a dream like this. Our resident expert on the topic is a layer above us, and I have yet to hear anything about interlayer communications being developed. So if this idea of mine doesn't work, we're S.O.L."

"That's pretty impressive." Clint looked over the armor in appreciation.

"If you guys were staying conscious, maybe I'd make you some. But alas, you guys get to sleep and I get to guard your unconscious bodies like it isn't totally creepy."

"You'll do fine," Natasha told him with a supportive nod. "I trust you."

"Really? That's awesome," Tony replied, touched.

"So don't fuck it up and get us all killed," she continued in a stern tone of voice.

"Got it," Tony said, nodding and slamming the face place into place. "Go on. I got this."

Needles in, lines prepped, somnacin flowing.

Another layer down.

***

**Act Three – Letting Go**

The Odinson manor was a large, sprawling building with a limestone façade over solid brick, large windows facing a front circular driveway. In the center of the circle was a fountain water feature, and leading out of the circular driveway to the main road was a long roadway, complete with towering oaks with branches reaching overhead. It had reminded Clint of a Southern US plantation when he had seen it in the real world, and Tony had captured the aesthetic perfectly for Natasha to dream. Inside, the manor was ornate and full of priceless antiques. Most rooms had painted murals on the walls with Baroque furniture. It led to an almost oppressive atmosphere, and Clint didn't have to wonder why Loki would feel so out of place there. He had been far more confident in the ultramodern glass and metal Odin Corp headquarters.

The manor was swarming with projections, staff and business associates. The head of the family was dying, and everything was in chaos. It was easy to blend into the crowds and make small talk, commiserating on the family's upcoming loss. Natasha walked through wearing Frigga's face, bowing her head elegantly and demurely, acknowledging the meager comforts from others while still shrouded in her grief. Thor was too wounded at this time to really help them, but hadn't wanted to be left behind. He coughed and was deathly pale as he sat off to the side. Loki entered the room, expression drawn and pained as well. His father's death had been a long, slow, agonizing one as the cancer metastasized throughout his body, leaving him sleeping off the sedating drugs used to keep his pain in check. He hadn't really been mentally present for months before he finally died in the real world.

Frigga drew Thor and Loki aside. "I don't think you can stand these sycophants any longer," she told them. She gave them a pained smile and patted Loki's arm. "I'll make your excuses, say you have to check in with your father."

"We should look in on him," Loki replied, clasping Frigga's hands in his. "We'll make sure he's comfortable, that he feels safe. It's all right, Mother, we'll look after him."

"Such a good boy. So perceptive of others."

Loki flashed her a tight smile and then went off toward the sickroom.

Turning her attention to Thor, Frigga's expression fell somewhat. "How bad is it?"  
Thor grimaced as he stood up, and swayed a little. The dark suit hid the abdominal wound, but there was no mistaking the ashen complexion or the way he had to grasp her arm for balance while standing. "I am not feeling quite like myself, and it hurts. But I will still play my part, if that's what you're asking."

"No, it wasn't. I can be you for this part if you can't stand," Frigga replied. For a moment, her eyes flashed green, a sliver of Natasha peeking through the forge. Then in another blink it was gone, a grieving Frigga back in place.

Wincing, Thor plopped back down in place. "If you could? I am so dizzy, I probably haven't much time left."

"Then I'll go."

She ducked in and out of crowds, shifting her appearance and clothing as she went. By the time she reached the hallway leading to the sickroom, she was looking and moving exactly like Thor, a trick of smoke and mirrors and consummate observation skills.

Odinson's sickroom was just down the hall from the milling employees waiting for word about his mental status. The drugs keeping his cancer at bay left him mostly asleep, the projections declared, and they were waiting to see if he would gift them with some aspect of the business. Ghouls, one and all, much as it had happened in real life. But the sickly Odinson hadn't caved, even if he lost his mental faculties, and his holdings all passed to his sons.

Loki sat beside his father, a hand clasped between two of his own as Natasha entered the sickroom looking like Thor. "Brother," he said quietly.

"What is it?" Loki asked, not looking up from their father's bedside. In the real world, he didn't yet know he was adopted. Natasha wasn't sure what he would know in the dream.

"He hasn't changed," Thor began hesitantly, sitting down across from Loki.

"It won't be long, I think," Loki murmured, eyes still focused on their father. "At least he's not in pain. He doesn't realize what's happening out there, the sycophantic idiots on their deathwatch, waiting for him to die so they can be promoted."

Natasha reached for the free hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. The old man seemed to have cold, clammy skin, as if he was just shy of death already. "We're with him. He has us," she told Loki quietly.

"Of course he does. The two of us, always together. It's as it should be."

Thor grinned at him. "As it should be. Yes."

Their father coughed suddenly, eyes opening. But he slid his gaze past Thor and looked directly at Loki. "My son." He pulled his hand from Thor's and grasped Loki's hand in both of his. "My dearest son."

"Father," Loki murmured, bringing his father's clammy hand to his lips. "Rest. Gather your strength so you can fight this..."

"Bah. No more fighting. No more tears. No more desperate cries from idiots wanting into my pockets to scrabble for change." He laughed along with Loki, but then the laughter devolved into coughs. Blood came up, and Thor dabbed at his lips with a tissue from the box beside the bed. 

"Father," Loki repeated, perturbed by this. "I'll get Mother."

"No. Wait. Thor can go get her," he rasped, still not looking at Thor. With his gaze fixed on Loki, he struggled to sit up. Loki helped him, arms tight around his frail shoulders. "You. I need _you_ to save the corporation. No more frittering away the money and research. No more expensive baubles and jewels for silly girls and one night stands."

Natasha managed not to laugh and blow her cover. Loki really hadn't liked Thor's behavior before he met Jane Foster. Their father had been a notorious womanizer in his day, long before Frigga came on the scene. Perhaps Loki was actually his son, but couldn't say so to Frigga. No one would ever know the truth now.

"I'm not that kind, Father, you know that," Loki told him gently. He glanced at Thor with an almost apologetic look.

"Yes. I know. Which is why _you_ must lead my company. You must control it, and I need you to hold our family together. All our futures depend on you now."

Loki froze and stared at his father in disbelief. Tension slowly bled out of him, and Natasha held her breath. Would he really integrate this into his sense of self?

"Of course, Father," Loki said, kissing his father's forehead. "I would do anything for you, you know that. I'll take care of everything."

Nodding slowly, Natasha rose and headed out of the sickroom. She wasn't needed there any longer. They had accomplished what they set out to do.

***  
***


	8. Wash The Sorrow From Off My Skin

Making her way back into the main area, she found Clint first. "We're good. It's done."

"You sure?" Clint asked, a tinge of anxiety in his features.

"He accepted his projection of his father as his father, and the projection asked him to keep the family together and take care of it. I think we're good."

Clint's shoulders sagged in relief. "Fantastic. Steve is around here somewhere, and Thor is right where you left him. Let's blow this popsicle stand and get topside."

They hadn't seen Bucky yet, in other words, and no one was in a particular hurry to meet him.

Steve was sitting next to Thor, and apparently they were hammering out details on the payments that should have been outlined in the contract. It sounded like he was asking for more hazard pay, given the complexity of the already terribly complex job, and Thor was exhausted enough to admit he had been in over his head when he insisted on coming with them. "All right, you all may have had a point," he sighed, leaning heavily against him. "But I needed to see... He's my brother. My _brother._ Whatever else he might have thought, he's my brother. And I had to see for myself that he's all right."

Nodding, Steve clasped Thor's hand tightly. "And we are very careful. You've seen it." He looked up when Clint and Natasha approached. She was wearing her own face, not concerned about Loki seeing it when he was still in the sickroom. "Hey. You finished?"

"It's done. I think it took," Natasha told them with a slight smile. "We'll have to see for sure in the real world, but if his projections are anything to go by, the idea has embedded itself."

Thor's relief was palpable. "Thank you. All of you, thank you."

"Now all we have to do is start staging the kicks to get us out of the levels," Clint said.

Steve's gaze slid sideways, and his jaw dropped. He got to his feet murmuring "No" right before the sound of a gunshot resounded through the room. Clint turned, shoving Natasha behind him as he moved. She squeaked in surprise and tripped over Thor's feet, falling to the floor and knocking Steve's feet out from under him. Despite his injury, Thor tried to bend down to help Natasha and Steve rise to their feet. That left only Clint standing up, a USP Compact suddenly in his hand and aimed at the source of the gun.

So he was the one that Bucky shot.

Shrieking, Natasha got to her feet, a Glock 19 in each hand. She fired at Bucky as she moved, missing, but it got him on the move and had the projections scattering. He _growled_ at them and tossed his gun aside as he pulled out a new one. Bucky stalked forward, laughing at her when she didn't connect. Natasha was damn good, so the only reason why she missed was some hesitancy she had in shooting him.

"Get Thor out of here," she hissed to Steve. "Finish the job, get them topside!"

"I can't leave you behind," Steve replied.

"Just do your fucking job!" she cried, shooting again when Bucky would have shot at them.

Thankfully, Steve didn't protest further. He dragged Thor out of the room and toward the sickroom. He would get Thor and Loki to a safe place. If he had his head on straight, he would set charges in the basement that would destroy the house's foundations. The resulting collapse would serve as a violent kick to wake them all into the upper level. From there, further explosions would kick them up again and again, until they woke to the real world. Loki would have to remain sedated long enough for the rest of them to leave the room and filter back into the Odinson party.

Assuming they all could wake up.

"What do you want, Bucky?" she said as he continued to approach while she swapped out her empty magazine for a new one. Behind her was Clint and the hallway to the sickroom. She had to keep them safe.

"You," he intoned. "Drop your gun."

Before she could bring her gun up to bear, his was pointed at the center of her forehead. If he pulled the trigger—oh God, his finger was right over it, he was ready to fire at any moment—then she would never wake up again.

Natasha stared at the gun in Bucky's hand, the long, lank hair and the dead, empty eyes. There was no mistaking that look, that intent.

There really was no choice, was there?

She let her guns fall to the floor, and she lifted her chin as she stared at him. Still between Bucky and the others, there was nothing stopping him from shooting her. "Natasha, no!" Clint screamed, realizing what she was about to do. But he was shot, and if he bled out and died, he would never wake up again. If Bucky killed her here, she wouldn't wake up again.

But at least the others would.

"Go," she said, not taking her eyes off of Bucky. "You finish the mission. I'll stay here, and we'll figure it all out."

"You can't," Clint cried, voice breaking.

Natasha halfway turned toward him, lips curling a little into her favorite sardonic smile. She wanted him to remember her in control and not afraid. She wanted him to remember her in her element, not twitching with barely contained fear.

"I've got this, Clint. You go on. I'll catch up with you later."

She didn't resist when Bucky yanked at her arm and led her away from the others.

***

Natasha stared at Bucky, eyes searching his face. This was a projection, after all, and it wasn't even hers. This was _Bucky,_ not _James,_ and she wasn't sure what she could expect. There wasn't any rage in his expression, only curiosity.

"You're not afraid of me."

Her lips curled into a soft smile. "After the history we've had? No."

"I'm not the real thing," he said, coming closer, a swagger in his step. Oh, that walk used to make her mouth water, used to make her pull him close and rip his shirt off, buttons flying every which way. "How can you trust me?"

"Because Steve does, and I trust Steve. He wouldn't hurt me. His version of you wouldn't hurt me." She stayed very still as he approached, eyes glinting oddly. "Because we still love you," she said softly, "and I think you still love us. Why else do this?"

Bucky grasped hold of her back of her neck, angling her head to look up further at him. "You think I love you?" he snarled.

"I know you do," she replied in that same gentle voice, placing her hands delicately on his chest the way she used to. "Why else herd us here? Why else try to keep us?" She reached up and placed her fingers over his lips when he would have replied. "But you're forgetting something, because Steve wouldn't ever consider it."

"Oh?" Bucky sneered. "What's that?"

"If we stay here with you, our bodies will die."

He froze for a split second; no, Steve had never thought of that. "It's a lie. And even if it was true, we'd have several lifetimes here."

"But then it's over. No one to dream of you ever again. No one to remember you."

He shook her neck once, viciously. "You didn't remember."

Natasha reached up and pulled on his earlobe sharply; it was a sensitive spot, and Bucky winced, letting go of her neck. "I remember _everything,"_ she hissed. _"James._ I had to pick up the pieces left in your wake. I had to get Steve out of there, your blood in my mouth and your breath in my chest. I had to nurse him when he wouldn't eat, when he stared out the window like his soul was gone. I had to chase down the creditors, follow the leads. _I had to get even,_ because he couldn't do it. I did it all on my own, and I had to be strong enough for both of us, because he couldn't do it. I couldn't afford to look weak, to give in to grief, to howl and cry and weep. So I made sure _they_ did it for me."

Bucky froze. "What?"

Natasha locked eyes with Bucky, her heart in her throat. It was a projection, not the real Bucky, not her James, but that didn't matter in that moment. "It's been a year, James," she began, voice hoarse as if she had screamed. "Steve couldn't handle it. I couldn't tell him. So I picked up the pieces and I made sure to get even. Every last one of them. Because I went over it in my head. A thousand times, a thousand different ways, trying to figure out how it could have gone so wrong that day. And you know what?"

He stared at her intently, not even breathing or blinking. Projections were eerie that way.

 _"We didn't do anything wrong._ I went under, analyzed everything, looked for any clues, no matter how minor. My memory is _good,_ James. I was your backup. And it was all there, all of it. We didn't fuck it up. It didn't go wrong because of us. _It wasn't us."_

"If it wasn't us..." he began softly.

"We were set up. We were never meant to get that information. The extraction was a fake, meant to set us up as the fall guy. It was blind luck that Steve and I got out, only because of your quick thinking. _You saved us,_ you sacrificed yourself." She reached up and cradled his face in her hands. "We've been broken without you, but we lived."

"You didn't look broken," Bucky replied sulkily, wrenching himself from her.

"I couldn't crack," Natasha told him, her voice betraying her anger. "I couldn't buckle, couldn't grieve, couldn't afford to give an inch. I held him together! For you, for me, for _us,_ to keep your memory alive, James. I did everything. I got the jobs, I did the forges, I stalked, I killed, I stole. Everyone that fucked with us is gone. They drowned in their own blood, and there is no way to trace it back to us."

"Fuck," Bucky said, pacing back and forth in an agitated manner. "I didn't know."

"I know," Natasha said gently. "I couldn't tell Steve. He couldn't handle it."

"No, he couldn't," he agreed, a crooked smile on his face. "He was the bright star between us, the one with hope and innocence."

Natasha snorted. "Not that innocent."

Bucky laughed, a bright and cheerful sound that she hadn't heard in a long time. It made her gut clench with pain; grief spiked sharp and horrible in her chest, and she surged forward to grasp his shirt. "James," she began, her voice breaking.

"We were the darker parts of him," Bucky said, grabbing hold of her arms. He lifted her up and spun her around, until her back slammed into the wall. "You, who could do everything, and me, who would do anything to keep him happy. He never had to do the seedy shit, because we did it for him, we kept him shining and beautiful."

"My hands are washed in blood," Natasha whispered, "especially now. If it was a ledger, it would be gushing, dripping red. There's no way to make up for the evil I've done."

"Maybe we don't deserve forgiveness," Bucky replied, leaning in to kiss her. "Maybe people like us belong in the dark, only glimpsing the light."

She was consumed in his kiss. "Or maybe we have to make our own light where we can."

With the fluidity of dreams, their clothes were ripped off and tossed everywhere, their mouths still fused together in a kiss that threatened to consume her soul. This was Bucky, no, James, her James, the one that could be so tender and dorky at the same time he was fucking her right up against the wall. And then he was spinning her around, so that her bare back was against the wall, textured wallpaper pressing into her skin. He hoisted her up effortlessly, fingers biting into the flesh of her thighs, and she reached down between their bodies to help guide his erect cock into her wet sheath. He slid home, making her gasp at the flash of pure pleasure that shot through her. "Oh my god, it's been so long, James."

"Yes, it has."

"If you'd done this instead of killing me..."

"Didn't know I could," he growled.

Then there was his mouth over hers as he drove into her relentlessly, driving the pleasure through her, a hot bolt that she could feel deep inside her body. She shivered and writhed, her own fingers pulling him closer, as if his deeper thrusts weren't deep enough, as if he could melt into her skin and drive her wild from the inside out. Even when she was coming, he kept going. Another few thrusts, then he picked her up and walked backward unerringly toward the bed.

"I love you, James Buchanan Barnes," she said tenderly, her arms still wrapped around him. "You're a good man. You _were_ a good man."

"Not really, but then, you always understood that."

As they kissed, he swept her around and pressed her into the bed with the fluidity of a dream. He was still rock hard inside her, and he fucked the way she remembered. It was hard and fast and filthy as hell, his voice wrapping itself around her.

The door to the room banged open until it hit the wall. "What the fuck?"

Natasha tilted her head to the side and saw Steve, jaw fallen open in shock. His cheeks carried a slight flush, as if he had run a marathon to find them, sweat at his hairline and tight T shirt clinging to his chest and abs almost obscenely. He wore jeans and a shoulder holster in plain sight; perhaps some of Loki's projections prowled the dreamscape.

"I found James. Join us," Natasha said, just as if this was celebratory sex after a job. God, it hurt to hear her own voice, to see the confusion and shock and _want_ in Steve's eyes. They had fucked and made love and given each other solace a year ago, before she had to walk away for her own sanity, but it hadn't been the same. Something had been missing.

 _Someone_ had been missing.

As if in a dream — haha, the irony was not lost on her — Steve came forward. The door shut behind him, lock clicking into place. His hands shook, his blue eyes fixed on Bucky. He grasped Steve by the shirtfront, pulling him even closer and then kissing him as if his life depended on it, as if Steve was the only source of water in a desert, as if everything would splinter apart without him. Considering Bucky was a projection, yes it would.

Natasha reached over and rubbed Steve's growing erection through his clothes. "Get rid of those, Rogers," she purred. His cock jerked under her touch, a low whine in his throat.

His clothes disappeared and she pulled at his hip to get him clambering up onto the bed. At her annoyed tap on Bucky's chest, their kiss broke off. "Position change, Barnes," she barked. Both perked up at the command, just like the old days, and it hurt in a good way to see it again. Oh, how she missed this, how she sobbed herself to sleep with her hand between her legs, a poor substitute for their glory days.

Kneeling on the bed, she perched on hands and knees as Bucky took her from behind. Then she pulled Steve into position so that she could take his thick cock into her mouth as he knelt in front of her. That left his mouth free to kiss Bucky.

She remembered cradling Steve in her arms, his touch tender and sweet, his body rocking into hers. She remembered how he made love to her, then Bucky's hand coming to slide down Steve's spine until he came down to the cleft of his ass. Steve's rhythm always stuttered when Bucky's fingers worked him open; he was always surprised by the cold lube and warm fingers, by the fullness and stretch, the spark of pleasure that became a slow burn. The three of them, in concert, rhythm perfected with practice, whatever combinations they could think of, even if they openly mocked all the threesome porn they could find on the internet.

This time, with the fluidity of dreams, they shifted so that Steve on his back and Natasha could climb up on top of him. Sinking down over his cock was blissfully pleasurable, something that had her sighing in contentment. "Mmmm. God, I missed this," Steve murmured, reaching up to caress her breasts. "I missed you. I missed _us."_

Bucky took up the bottle of lube that appeared beside them on the bed, grinning at him just the way he used to. "Of course you did, pal. And I'm gonna fuck you like I fucked Tash, and it's going to leave you speechless."

He groaned, loving the dirty talk, and arched up a little as Natasha began to ride him. Bucky slid his hand along her spine, pitching her forward with a gentle shove. As that happened, a pillow formed beneath Steve's hips, tilting them up and opening his legs. Natasha fell forward and braced herself on her hands, placing them on either side of Steve's head. He had one hand fondling a breast, the other at her hip, pulling her in as she pushed herself down on his cock. As usual, he jerked a little when Bucky slid slicked fingers along his ass. "Idiot," Natasha told him with a grin. She turned behind her to look at Bucky's satisfied expression. "Quit jerking his chain and fuck him already. Give it to him good."

"Yes, ma'am," Bucky replied, that lazy and self satisfied grin on his face. He even saluted her, the punk. But he scissored his fingers inside of Steve's ass, making him grab Natasha tight as he cried out. "Come on, Stevie. Come," Bucky said, twisting and curling his fingers.

It was a dream, there was no such thing as a refractory period if you knew how to manipulate the conditions of the dream. They did, and had fucked each other in dreams before. So Steve could spill himself inside of Natasha and still thrust up into her, not softening at all. And he could cry out as Bucky slid his cock inside of his ass, the stretch and burn and pleasure pushing him past limits he thought he had.

"Fuck," Steve groaned, eyes squeezed tight and head thrown back into the pillow.

"That's the idea, genius," Bucky snarked.

Natasha clenched her inner muscles and made a crooning sound as Bucky slid a hand around her hip to find her clit. She shifted back a little, her back flush against Bucky's chest, and the two of them worked out a see-sawing rhythm that made Steve cry out and arch beneath them, coming again with a shout. Yet still they continued, moving with a desperate intensity.

Collapsing into a boneless heap after a few more orgasms – Was it two? Three? More? Who cared anyway? – the trio was nothing more than a tangle of limbs and bare skin. It didn't matter who was stroked and cradled and nuzzled, not the way their relationship used to be. It was comfort now, coming down off the high, a sweet buzz in their veins.

And it was bittersweet, grief and love and adoration and desperation all together.

Finally, Natasha slid from the bed, smiling gently at the two men still sprawled there. She laid a finger over Steve's lips. "Say goodbye, Steve." Leaning over them, she kissed Bucky's shoulder and then Steve's forehead. "I already have a thousand times, but it was good to do it again."

She slipped her feet into the Louboutins that she kicked off earlier. As she did, her dress was on her body like a second skin again, hiding the slick slide of come between her thighs. Natasha didn't want to get rid of that reminder, and no one else had to know. Her hair was perfectly coiffed with the jeweled pins back in place. Ah, dream share. She looked over her shoulder at the two men, a confident smirk on her face. "Now I have to go save the job. Again."

"She always did impress me," Bucky told Steve with an admiring smile, his hand coming to rest on Steve's waist.

"I know," Natasha replied, turning around with a little flounce to her step.

Just like the old days.

This time, she welcomed the burn of grief and loss as she walked through the door.

***

Natasha made her way up through the kicks easily, and was grateful to see Clint on the first level with Loki and Steve still attached to the PASIV. She could tell he had waited for her, unable to leave the dream without her. "Hey," she said, smiling as she sat up.

"Steve okay?"

"Yeah. I think he'll be okay. It's being worked out, and he'll wake up."

Clint's mouth worked for a moment, taking in her calm reassurance, and his expression shifted a little. "He insisted on going to look for you. Having Bucky around was his fault, and I kind of wasn't in any position to stop him," Clint admitted, defeat in his tone. "How many times haven't I been good enough to get to you—"

"Don't," Natasha whispered, taking his face in her hands. "Don't do that to yourself."

"I wasn't there when you needed me."

"Wake up, Clint. You're always there when I need you, in the dream or waking up. You took that bullet for me on that level down there. You shifted roles in this thing. And... You've been waiting for me forever to make up my damn mind, to stop being so many different people. I think you'd wait forever if I was cruel enough to do it."

"You're not making me do anything," he protested, catching her hands in his. "I love you."

It felt right this time around, though Natasha couldn't have said why. Maybe because she was letting go of James, of the guilt she had felt herself. Because she could give Steve time, because she let him know indirectly that she had done all she could to keep him safe, and keep James' memory protected.

Maybe because this time, she was truly ready to move on.

"I love you, Clint Barton. Let's get out of here, eat fancy food, drink expensive booze, then go to our hotel room and have fantastic sex."

He laughed and kissed her, his arms closing tight around her. She held his gaze, walking backward toward the open elevator shaft behind them. "I love you," she whispered again, reveling in the feel of the words before they tipped over the edge.

They fell—

—and then woke up at the party. Jane had done her due diligence, and was unhooking everyone as they woke, making sure that Pepper kept a close watch over Loki's sedation levels. "That just leaves..." Jane began, looking over at Steve and Loki.

"He'll wake up," Natasha told her confidently.

It took another few anxious minutes, but Steve finally woke up, a content expression on his face when he sat up. "We did it," he murmured to Jane as she removed the needles from his wrist. He looked over at Thor, taking in his nod of acceptance. "Now we can really enjoy that party, huh?"

They all filtered back into the party, and Natasha caught sight of Loki when he emerged into the main area. He looked tired, perhaps. Maybe groggy. Bypassing the alcohol, he moved around the room to check on guests. That helped him eventually get his usual alertness level back, and the movement also helped his body metabolize the last of the sedatives. Perfect.

"Natalie," Loki murmured, eventually trying to catch her attention. She was of course hyperalert to his presence, to try to see if the inception took, if he was any different than before. Of all the players in this little three act play, she was the best equipped to recognize it.

"Loki," she said, turning around to face him. She carried two glasses of champagne in her hands, and had a polite smile on her face. His gaze swept over her, not exactly possessive, not like before, but with a tender familiarity. On some level, he remembered pieces of the dream. "How can I help you? I thought I was off the clock?"

"What? Oh, yes. Yes, you are. This isn't for the company. It's... I would like to have dinner with you. Surely you aren't leaving Paris just yet?"

Natasha heard the question he wasn't asking in the gentle tone of voice. Oh yes, he was a changed man, all right. Gone was the arrogant swagger in his stance and haughty tenor as he spoke with others. "Why are you asking?"

"I'm sure my brother can extend the contract with Odin Corporation," Loki began. "If you feel my doing so would be a conflict of interest."

_Brother._

Glory, hallelujah, _it worked._

Of course it did, they all bent over backward and nearly died to make sure it did. Natasha didn't have to fake anything to flash him a brilliant smile, and Loki visibly reacted to it much as he had in the dream. Poor man. He would forever chase it as well.

"It wouldn't be, but I can't stay in Paris." She let her gaze settle on Clint, who she unerringly found in the crowd. "I have other plans."

Loki's gaze followed hers, and she heard the way his breath caught. "You have a lover."

"I'm not sure what to call him, to be honest," she replied easily and honestly. This honesty thing was something else. She should try it out more often with the subjects. They responded so well to it, and she didn't have to juggle too many different details at once. "He's been waiting on me to make up my mind about what I want. I still haven't figured it out, and he's okay with that. He's been waiting a long time, and if I never do, he'll still be here with me."

"That's why you do locum tenens work," Loki said with a sighing breath.

"I hope someday I figure it out. He deserves all of me, not just the fragments that are safe with him." She had the brilliant smile at Loki again. "He's a good man."

"I would hope so. If not... find me. I'll take care of him." At her raised eyebrow, he looked away, a little embarrassed. "I may harbor some feelings for you, Natalie. I feel like I know you. The way you move, your adoptive family, your—"

"I'm not adopted," Natasha interrupted, hoping to make a clear break between reality and the dream he had just woken from. That threw him a little, and she toned down her smile to one of social politeness. "I wonder why you thought I was."

The embarrassment was worse now, and she hoped she didn't trigger some kind of rage born of wounded pride. "I suppose I dreamed it. I dreamed of you a lot lately."

Natasha put the glasses down and touched his arm gently. "I'm flattered, I am. But there's not much to me, Loki. And I'm very happily taken. But I do hope you find someone that values you for who you are. All of you, good and bad, and makes you happy."

Loki looked at her, nodding. "Thank you. And I wish you luck with your lover."

She stepped away from Clint, who caught her eyes. He returned her smile once she grinned brightly at him, retrieving the glasses of champagne. "Thank you. You and your brother take care, Loki. I did enjoy working on this job. It made all the difficult parts worth it."

He might not have understood the nuance in her words, but he nodded and bid her farewell anyway. She made her way to Clint's side and handed him the drink. She could see Steve and Thor talking, his entire body language relaxed and open for the first time in the months they had been working together. Tony and Pepper were talking with Bruce and Jane, all looking friendly and calm. "I think they'll all be okay."

Clint chugged the champagne quickly, as if it wasn't ridiculously expensive and classy, then put the glass aside. "Yeah. I think we'll all be okay now." He waited for her to finish her glass and then extended his arm in a gallant manner. "May I have this dance?"

Natasha smiled warmly at him, accepting his arm. "Forever, Clint, absolutely."

The End


End file.
